


Five Girls In A Flat

by Amateurhuman



Series: Life is Strange: London Calling [2]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: 1983, Alternate Universe, Cliche, Drama, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Football, Friendship, Growing Up, Humor, Ireland, London, Love, Original Character(s), Punk, Romance, Smut, The young ones meet spice girls, University
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2020-10-05 21:23:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20495555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amateurhuman/pseuds/Amateurhuman
Summary: It's London and the year is 1983. Chloe the punk, Victoria the jock, Kate the art student and Rachel the barmaid all share a house together (so it's not really a flat).  Life is good and full of opportunities, as well as minor problems and grievances. Complications, cutesies, conflicts and carelessness abound!





	1. Swizzled

The littered street and the somewhat run-down and large, almost identical, brick row houses on both sides wasn’t really how Maxine had pictured it I her mind. Well, standards where probably different here than back home.

The street was empty except for a couple of stray cats strolling by and a punk rocker sitting outside one of the doors. It was the first time Maxine had seen one in real life, a punk rocker that is, and it wasn’t until she came up close that she noticed that it was a girl, at maybe her own age, underneath that makeup, leather and shiny metal studs. She sat on the steps with her legs wide apart, smoking a cigarette. The punk gazed at her from under half closed eyelids.

Maxine immediately lifted her folded out map up to her nose, not only to consult it, but also to shield herself from those blue eyes surrounded by a thick layer of eyeliner. She had walked past this door three times already and it had to be the correct address. But that scary punk didn’t seem to want to move, and she blocked the way to the door. Maxine peeked out from behind her map just when the punk girl stubbed out her cigarette on a stained step. She gave Maxine a suspicious look.

“You want something?”

She had sounded a bit unfriendly, or maybe it was her British accent that made its seem so. It took a while until Maxine had worked up enough courage for a reply.

“Excuse me,” She murmured, “Is this 51 Spinner’s Road? In, ehm, Chalk Farm?”

“Indubitably, “ The punk answered and thumbed at the large brass ’51’ behind her. “51 Spinner’s Road, Chalk Farm, London, U.K, Europe, Earth, to be more precise. Who’s the asker?”

Maxine fought an urge to hide behind the large map of London again. Instead she mumbled, even more quiet this time, her eyes fixed on the punk’s shiny black army boots, “My name’s Maxine, I’m here for the–”

The punk girl stretched out on the steps and blew out a large puff of smoke. Maxine could see that she was really tall, her mohawk almost swept against the scuffed green-painted door at the end of the steps when she shook her head.

“Louder please, can’t hear you.”

Maxine felt how she started to blush.

“I’m here about the room.”

Of course she had tried too hard and almost shouted the words this time. It didn’t make her blush any less.

The punk stared at her from top to bottom. Maxine guessed she wasn’t overjoyed by what she saw. In her glasses and neat shoulder length hair, her saffron sweater, brown corduroy trousers and leather sandals, Maxine was possibly as far away from punk as you could be.

“The room? Sorry, must be a misunderstanding. No room here.”

Maxine felt her tummy go cold. Her first impulse was to just walk away, but where? She knew no one in this foreign city and foreign country. Her bright idea about studying overseas suddenly felt like a big mistake.

“Are you sure? I-I was told I should come here today. My name is Maxine–”

“There’s a hostel a couple of blocks down that way, are you sure that’s not where you should be?”

With thumping heart Maxine searched for the pice of paper where she had scribbled down the address and held it up to the punk.

“But… there _was_ a room. I… I don’t understand, it should be here. 51 Spinner’s Road. Look.”

The punk glanced at the paper slip, clearly unimpressed. Maxine tried to steady her voice, but to no avail.

“I… I’ve already paid in advance for the whole term.”

The tall punk rose with a pitiful expression as a solitary tear found its way down Maxine’s face.

“I’m sorry, luv, looks like you’ve been swizzled. It happens.”

“Swizzled?” Maxine snivelled.

“You know, duped, conned. Fooled?”

When Maxine understood, it hit her like a punch in the gut. The pain in her tummy was most definitely physical and it made her wince and tears well up in her eyes.

Maxine though back on how everything had started, by applying to a prestigious photo school in London instead of in Portland or Seattle as her parents had wanted. And, when her bestie Steph had bailed, insisted on going alone, completely at odds with all her principles and personality. On top of that she had insisted on doing all the arrangements of her stay herself, as the 21 year old grown up she had told her parents during all those countless arguments that she surely was. What the hell was she supposed to do now with this fiasco?She had never ever felt so utterly lost and alone before in her whole life. Or so stupid, so incredibly, utterly stupid.

The punk girl reached inside her studded leather jacket and took out a crumpled pack of Lucky Strikes.

“Here, a fag will make you feel better.”

Maxine stared at the outstretched hand.

“Uh, fag? Oh, no, I… I don’t smoke. Bu-but… thanks.”

“No? Maybe now’s a good time to start, then?”

Maxine shook her head and hefted up her old worn suitcase with both hands and started to stumble away. After just a short distance, the suitcase felt like it was made of lead, which was strange, because it had felt pretty light on the way here.

“Oi!” The punk shouted after her. “Where are you going?”

When Maxine turned around, she saw the punk girl had followed her and stood just a few paces behind.

“I… I don’t know.” She answered in a small voice. “I have nowhere else to go.”

“Well, the nearest tube station is the other way. That way is only trouble.”

Maxine fought the tears when she put down her suitcase and unfolded her big London map, but they didn’t want to stop. One after one after one they trickled down her freckled cheeks as she, sniffling,searched for where she was and where she was going. She really had no idea about either of those wheres, especially the last one, but the map at least gave her some small sense of security and control.

A sudden gust of wind almost ripped the map out of her hands, and then, out of the blue, the sky opened. In seconds she was soaking wet down to her bare skin, and the map in her hands had turned into a miserable soggy paper rag. The temperature dropped from summer heat till cold autumn.

“Bloody hell,” The punk girl laughed and turned her face up towards the falling rain, “There goes my bloody hair and war paint.”

Shivering with cold, Maxine stood and watched how the punk, now with a considerably sagging mohawk and a face streaked with running makeup, hasted back towards the house through the downpour. She skipped up the few steps to the green door, grabbed the door handle and disappeared inside.

Meticulously, Maxine folded up the now wet and sticky paper map and put it in the back pocket of her soaked trousers, then wiped away the bangs that sat plastered to her forehead. She could feel every drop that hit her head and the back of her neck, and in cold streams continued down to pool up at the small of her back, before trickling down between her buttocks. Her teeth started to clatter as she started to lug the heavy suitcase along the empty street. Her inside felt as empty and chilly as the road stretching out before her. If she just put one foot before the other, sooner or later she would hopefully find some kind of shelter from the rain and the bitter North Sea wind.

Out of the rain, the punk came walking with a big black umbrella over her head.

“Hey, I never really caught you name. Max, was it?”

“M-m-maxine.” Maxine shuddered out.

“Well, Maxine, lesson one learned for a life in London; never leave home without a brolly.”

The punk gave her the polished wooden handle of the umbrella. Their hands touched briefly, and the punks fingers were warm and dry. Her nails where painted black.

“Th-thanks.”

They stood watching each other while the rain drummed against the umbrella’s canopy and whipped the paving to a froth around them. Icy water sloshed between Maxine’s toes, and she felt how she got colder and colder by the minute.

“I… I better get going.” Maxine said from behind clenched teeth so that she wouldn’t stutter so much. She managed so-so.

The punk made a heavy sigh.

“Oh sod it,” She groaned, “Y’know what? How about you sleep on our coach tonight, and maybe things have cleared up in the morning?”

Maxine shook so much that she could barely nod in answer. When she reached for her suitcase, the punk had already grabbed the handle and started to carry the large and cumbersome piece towards the house.

“Come on then, this way.”

As they started walking up to the green door at the top of the steps, the tall punk turned to her and gave a small smile.

“Name’s Chloe by the way, but some call me Crikey. Pleased to meet you, Maxine.”

She swung the green door open and gestured for Maxine to enter.

“Now, let’s get you into some dry clothes and a cuppa tea into you.”

* * *

They came in to a narrow hall that was completely crammed with coats, jackets, shoes, boots, wellingtons, scarves and hats in a variety of colours and styles. A stair in dark wood went up straight ahead, taking up half the space, and there were doors in all directions. To the left, just inside the outer door, sat a small elegant table with a worn but comfy looking chair and a telephone, and a china flowerpot with a very sad looking begonia.

“Wait here. I’ll be back in a heartbeat,” the punk girl said and chucked the umbrella in a chafed satin brass holder just inside the front door, then she left through the nearest door opening. A moment later she returned with a big fluffy but somewhat dowdy dressing gown in her arms.

“Off with them then, love. You’ll get the sneeze if you stay in those cold damp things any longer.”

Maxine hesitated.

“You mean I should undress here?”

The punk gave a nod.

“Can’t have you drip water all over the carpets, they are old and smelly as it is.”

She threw the dressing gown over the chair.

“Don’t worry, I won’t peek. I’ll put the kettle on in the meantime; the kitchen’s straight ahead.”

When the punk had left, Maxine opened her suitcase and, first and foremost, checked that her old Olympus camera had survived the rain. It seemed fine, well protected as it was in its sturdy black leather case. Then she quickly changed into her pyjama and put the soft dressing gown over. It reached all the way down to her feet. She also found a coat hanger for her wet clothes, but nowhere to hang it.

“Um, hello? I’m done now,” Maxine shouted out in the empty and unfamiliar hall, feeling slightly awkward. The punk looked out from the kitchen door, though now that she had removed her makeup and let her hair down, she looked almost like a regular girl. Well, not really, but her smile was kind.

“Brilliant. Now bring those clothes, the laundry is back here.”

Maxine shuffled through the hall and into the kitchen, which was as narrow as the hall before it, and even more crammed with things. There were cupboards and cabinets on every wall. Bottles and boxes of different kinds and contents stood on benches and filled every corner of the little room, and the small deep window to the left was filled to the brim with jars and bags of colourful spices. Over a marble work bench, dozens of big knives and other ominous-looking kitchen tools hung on brass hooks, and on the stone bench a big lump of dough lay half - kneaded on a bed of flour. A plump fridge that looked like it was at least thirty years old throned in a corner, ticking and wheezing silently.

Two big pots, one red and one black, stood poppling on a huge flaked old gas cooker in the middle of it all, and between the pots, a sooty kettle was burning on full flame; murmuring, but not yet boiling. Maxine’s nose was immediately assaulted by a multitude of exotic scents and she had to stop and take a deep breath.

“What is this? It smells delicious.”

The punk gave her a wide grin.

“Oh, thank you. I’ve got Samosas in the oven, and this is a malai kofta,” she said and pointed at the red iron pot on the stove with a slender wooden spoon, then she moved over to the slightly larger black pot, lifted the lid and started to stir carefully, “And this is my speciality; beef vindaloo, though today with lamb.”

The punk lifted the spoon to her mouth, blew on it and took a nibble.

“Hmm, just a little bit more,” She said and threw the spoon over the kitchen. Rattling it landed in a sink that was already occupied by a mountain of dirty dishes, bowls, and other well used kitchen utensils. Maxine ducked instinctively, though the throw wasn’t really that close. The scents from the cooking had intensified when the lid lifted, and Maxine just had to take one deep whiff again. It made her tummy growl in hunger.

“I’ve never heard of any of those dishes,” She said. “Are they French?”

The punk laughed, a loud endearing cackle.

“No, you silly nugget, not French. Indian. You’ve never had Indian?”

“No, never.” Maxine said, feeling a bit stupid.

“Well, today will be your first then. I hope I can make it justice, but let’s hang those clothes to dry first.”

The punk girl opened a narrow door in the farther wall of the kitchen and they walked into an oblong space that looked more like a walkway than a proper room. It gave off a vaguely musty smell. A small washing machine, a bench with drawers, a sink, and a couple of drying racks full of clothes stood on the plain concrete floor, and a mass of more for less entangled washing lines spanned the walls up in the ceiling. They looked like festive flag lines made of knickers, socks and bras.

“Giv’em to me,” The punk said, “I’m not sure you can reach all the way up there.”

She stepped up on a small wooden stool and hooked the hanger with Maxine’s damp clothes over one of the lines. At the exact same time, the kettle started to hoot in the kitchen.

“Timing, eh? You want Lapsang, or Assam? Or maybe regular Earl Grey?”

Maxine gave the punk girl a hesitant look.

“Uh, you choose?”

* * *

The rain was still pouring down outside, hammering against the big windows in the living room, and drenching the little garden outside in pools of water. Although it was still just afternoon, the thick overcast made it seem a lot later in the evening. Now and then a distant thunderclap echoed.

Maxine cuddled up in the worn but very comfy sofa in the combined dining and living room.Gripping around the warm teacup did wonders for her cold fingers, and the smoky and sugary taste was fine too, though Maxine wasn’t really a tea drinker. Heck, she barely drank coffee. The punk girl, or Chloe, as was her name, had selected something called Lapsang Souchong for her and ladled a couple of hefty teaspoons of brown sugar into the steaming brew. And no milk. Slowly but surely it warmed up her chilled innards.

She could hear how Chloe continued to potter about in the kitchen, cranking out of some kind of round flat buns that she had called ‘nan’. They looked like small pizzas but without the pizza stuff on top. The smell of freshly baked bread saturated the whole house in a cozy andhomey atmosphere.

Sipping her tea, Maxine looked around the large room. Old bookshelves filled with a variety of books covered most of the walls, and every space that wasn’t, a painting or a photograph sat or hanged. It was just as good because the ancient brown, gold and green striped wallpaper didn’t look all that fancy now, event if it surely had once upon a time. A big fireplace sat in the middle of the wall, and the yellowing roof was full of stucco ceiling roses that had seen better days. Maxine guessed that the old house could be called bohemian, though she quite liked the feeling it gave her. It was like a mix of many different personalities that didn’t quite match up, but in that tension something pleasant happened. People lived here, no doubt about it, but where were they? And who were they?

With a clatter, Chloe placed a stack of plates on the nearby dining table and spilled out a trove of knives and forks on the table top, before she, with a gruntled sigh, sank down in an armchair opposite Maxine. She had flour on the tip of her nose.

“How are you feeling?” She asked, “If I could, I would light you a fire, but it seems no-one has bothered to buy firewood in a while. To be fair, we mostly use the fire place in the winter, and only for fun.”

“I’m good now, thank you.”

Chloe stretched out and put up her slippers-clad feet on the low coffee table between them.

“Capital. This house’s actually centrally heated so we don’t have to lug wood or coal around like I did back home when I was a tot. Which I am very much thankful for.”

“This house is amazing,” Maxine said.

“Don’t know about amazing, but it’s roof over our heads at least.” Chloe said and glanced behind her to an old grandfather clock that stood lurking beside the kitchen door. It was nearing five o’clock. Maxine drank the last drop of her tea. It was thick and sweet as syrup. Sinking even deeper down into the sofa, she looked back at Chloe.

“So, are you having guests tonight?”

“No, just the regular lot,” Chloe said with a shrug, “There’s a bit of a special night tonight, but I don’t think there will be any guests.”

Then she winked at Maxine.

“There will be you, of course.”

Maxine smiled shyly down into her lap.

“Yes, thank you so much for letting me stay overnight. I don’t know what I would’ve done otherwise.”

Chloe nodded as she stood up with a huff.

“Well, no rest for the wicked. Can you give me a hand with the table?”

Maxine put down the empty cup on the coffee table and rose too.

“Sure.”

There were five of each plate, knife and fork, even if the dinner table had room for at least double that, and of course they were in the same style as much of the rest of the house; old and scuffed but had probably been elegant at some time. Maxine tried to ignore the feeling of nervousness that had begun creeping up on her while she set the table. What if the others did not like her crashing their Friday dinner? And what if they were loonies, or drug-users? Or criminals? Rapists? Murderers? Maxine started to feel like accepting to sleep on the coach at a random punk’s weird house had been a stupid idea. But what could she do? Run out in the rain again? But maybe she should hide her money. All that was left she carried in an envelope in the top pocket of her suitcase, and it was easy to find. And the camera! Sure, it was her father’s ten years old Olympus OM-2, but it was still valuable, and she needed it.

When Chloe came back into the dining room, she saw Maxine standing at the table, staring out in nothingness. Carefully she put down the pot she was carrying and placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder.

“Whats the matter? You look a bit pale around the gills there. Are you all right?”

“I was just thinking, what will the others say?” Maxine looked up at the tall punk girl. “About me being here, I mean? On your special night?”

“Nah, don’t worry, they won’t bite you, and it’s not that special.”

With a lopsided smile she picked up one of the forks Maxine had just laid out.

“And this usually goes to the left of the plate by the way.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I just–”

“Don’t be, I couldn’t care less. But Wicked is a bit fussy about those kinds of things.”

“Wicked?”

“Victoria. She’s American like you, by the way, despite her name being possibly the most British there is.”

“You mean… like the queen?”

“Like the old queen, yes. It’s not for naught her era is one of the more famous. This old bugger of a house was probably built during that time.”

Chloe glanced at the big old clock again as it struck five with hollow, fateful dings.

“They’re late.”

She went up and over to a small transistor radio standing on a side table and turned it on. Chloe spent some time searching through the channels and listening to the various programmes, but she didn’t find what she was looking for.

“Maybe it’s just the weather?” Max suggested.

“Probably,” Chloe said with wrinkle between her eyebrows, “And trains can get delayed for other reasons than bombs, you dimwit,” she added to herself.

“Sorry, bombs?”

Chloe looked up with an embarrassed face.

“Well, yes, IRA-bombs. But don’t tell Rachel I said that, she’s as Irish as can be. And even if she doesn’t sympathise with their methods, she also doesn’t like when people speak ill of the Irish. Any Irish, that is.”

Chloe gave her a grin.

“So watch out, she’s pretty good with her fists, or ‘Dornálaíocht’, as Rach calls it. Iv’e seen her knock a full grown man on his arse more than once.”

“Really?” Maxine smiled a nervous smile at her, not sure whether Chloe was joking or not. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

When the dinner table was all set, they sat down in the sofa and armchair again and waited.

* * *

The handle to the outer door creaked and they could hear the front door open on its squeaky hinges. Chloe jumped up from her chair and rushed away towards the hall, but Max stayed put in the sofa, unsure about what else to do. She could hear how multiple persons entered the hall, then how the door closed with a bang, shutting out the sound of heavy rain falling on the street outside.

“Welcome home, then.” Maxine heard a voice say that she didn’t recognise.

“Yeah,” someone answered in an American accent, “feels good to be back.”

Then there was a silence before the same voice continued;

“But what the hell? What have you louts done to my begonia?”

“Don’t look at me,” The first voice said, “That was Rachels responsibility, right Rach?”

A third voice, with a pronounced Irish accent, answered.

“Shite me, Kate, it was _your_ responsibility, and you know it. No-one has that bad a memory.”

A fourth voice, Maxine recognised it as Chloe’s, cut them off.

“Having a tussle already, girls? I mean, a minute of peace isn’t too much to ask for, is it?”

There was a short silence, then someone shrieked in joy.

“Crikey!”

“Wicked!”

There was a pause and a ruffle of cloth as they were probably hugging.

“Welcome back, Vee.”

“Yeah, back to this fucking weather,” The American said.

“Just a little British summer sprinkle.” Chloe answered, “You mean you don’t enjoy it? Cavorting in it like the effervescent child you are?”

“Ha-ha. Having spent three weeks in Italy in perfect weather and no rain, what do you think?

“I think you’ve missed it a lot.”

“Then you think wrong. But I’ve missed you. Can you help me up with my stuff? Also, I need to check if they’ve killed the rest of my flowers.”

Maxine could hear how they started go up the steps.

“And yeah, I’ve missed this house, too, and your cooking.” The American continued. “It smells fantastic.”

“What, the Italians didn’t have any good nosh?

“Oh, they had great food. I would like to take you all to Firenze some day…”

Their voices trailed off as they disappeared upstairs.

A redhead with her hair in a thick pony tail came out in the dining room. To Maxine’s surprise she didn’t look like a punk at all, but relatively conventional in a short greenish velour dress and black and white striped knee socks. She was nearly as short as Maxine but whereas Maxine almost looked like a boy with no hips and a diminutive bust (still hoping for that growth spurt to come, for sure), the redhead was noticeably more curved.

Maxine tried to make herself as small as possible where she sat hunkered down in the sofa. Clad in her pyjamas and that old dressing gown maybe she could melt into the background. It didn’t work. The redhead put down two bottles of wine on the dining table, then she turned and gave Maxine a piercing stare from sea green eyes.

“And who the feck are you?” She said with a heavy Irish melody.

“I… I…” Maxine mumbled. To be fair, it wasn’t just that she felt deeply awkward right now that caused her tongue-tiedness, but she was also absolutely stunned by the girl’s appearance. Her large green eyes, thick red-blonde hair, full lips and long patrician nose all made her look breathtaking, but it was the skin that sealed the deal. The redhead had the most delicate skin Maxine has ever seen; pale and smooth as porcelain, with a a hint of freckles and a shade of blush on her cheeks. Maxine had never seen such a beautiful person in person before. The person tilted her head and scrunched her brow at Maxine.

“Hello? What’s up with you, cailín? You talk or not?”

A blonde with her hair in a bun, her fists full of wine glassed held by their stems between her fingers, entered from the kitchen.

“Oh, we’ve got a guest,” She exclaimed and put down the glasses on the table. Then she quickly smoothed her wholesome and expensive looking blouse and trousers and reached out a hand. Maxine noticed that her fingers were covered in paint stains of many different colours. Tentatively, she took the blonde’s hand and shook it, still feeling a bit overwhelmed by the whole situation. The blonde smiled a warm, reassuring smile at her.

“Hello..?”

“Maxine.” Maxine whispered.

“Maxine, I’m Kate, and this annoying creature is Rachel. Nice to meet you. Will you stay for dinner?”

“Use your fecken eyes, love,” The redhead said and nodded at the table with its five plates.

“Oh, right, I’ll fetch another glass then.”

As soon as Kate had disappeared out in the kitchen, Rachel snatched two glasses from the table and filled them up from one of the bottles. She sat down next to Maxine in the sofa, so close that her thigh touched Maxine’s.

“Well, well, she _does_ talk after all,” She scoffed. “Old enough to drink, are you?”

When Maxine nodded, Rachel passed her one of the two glasses of wine and touched it with her’s, making them ring a little ‘ding’.

“Air do sláinte,” Rachel said and took a long sip from her wine while gazing deep into Maxine’s eyes. Maxine could do nothing but stare back while her cheeks got hotter and hotter. Rachel nodded at her, a little smirk on her face.

“It’s now you drink, cailín. Don’t tell me you’ve never had a toast before?”

“Uh, of course,” Maxine stuttered.

She drank. The wine was really good.

“So, Maxine, tell me about you, are you one of Crikey’s girlfriends?”

“No, we don’t know each other, really,” Maxine mumbled.

“Aha, you’re a one night stand, then?”

“Ah, no, no, we’ve just met.”

“Oh, intriguing. That’s why I’ve never seen you before. How did you meet?”

“No, no, no,” Maxine put up her hands to shield herself from the onslaught of questions. “I mean, I’m not her girlfriend or anything like that. I just–”

“You don’t have to answer her, Maxine.” Kate said, returning form the kitchen, “Rach’s one of the nosiest persons you’ll ever meet, so there’s no point in being polite.”

“Hah,” Rachel said and shook her head in mock exasperation, “Just because I’m interested in persons and you’re not, I’m ‘nosy’.”

“I’m interested in people,” Kate said in a huffy tone, “But my interest are more of the spiritual kind, not your sleazy, gossipy way.”

Rachel snorted out a raw laugh.

“Yea?” She gestured at the many paintings hanging on the walls around them. A big part where nudes of both males and females, and, in some occurrences, groups of people. Some of the pantings were so detailed it put some color on Maxine’s cheeks.

“Looks really spiritual to me, don’t you say?”

Rachel grinned and bumped shoulders with Maxine so she almost spilled her wine.

With a sigh, Kate filled up a glass for herself and took a big gulp.

“You know nothing of art, Rachel. To me, the body is merely an expression–”

“A minute of peace.” Chloe said as she walked into the room with a tall blonde girl in tow.“I guess it was just too much to ask from you two.”

She may had sounded angry, but her face told another story. Chloe looked as happy and content as can be, now that all the chickens finally had come home to roost. She clapped her hands together.

“Now let’s eat, shall we? Before the food gets cold and there is still any wine left to drink.”

* * *

Together, Rachel and Chloe lit the two large candelabras, and they all got seated, surrounding the table with a happy chatter. Maxine was served a generous helping of meat and stew. The lamb was spiced very hot, so after a first bite and a lot of wine and bread to dampen the burning in her mouth, Maxine concentrated on the other dishes instead. And then some more bread. And more wine. Everything was delicious and she ate until she couldn’t get down another morsel, and then some.

While she ate, Maxine listened to the conversation around her and glanced at the others at the table, especially at the new girl, Victoria. She was tall, broad shouldered and slim of waist with a close cropped, sun bleached thatch of hair and tanned, healthy looking skin. Maxine also couldn’t help but notice the bulging biceps under Victoria’s rolled up shirt sleeves. Victoria on her part didn’t seem to notice Maxine at all.

After some time, Chloe stood up, holding her wine glass and tinkled it with her fork. She quickly got their attention and cleared her throat.

“Dear friends.” She spoke in a mock solemn voice. “I want to propose a toast to our long lost companion, our brother in arm, who, after a long detour all the way to New York, and then to Italy of all places, finally is back again where she belongs. To you, Wicked.”

Kate raised her glass, exclaiming; “Huzza!”

Rachel just held her’s towards Victoria and gave her a shrewd smile and a wink.

They all drank.

“Crikey, Kate, Rach,” Victoria said, looking around the table. Her gaze swept past Maxine. “It feels damn good to be back home, guys. It really does.”

Rachel jumped up on her chair and stood there, balancing, holding her glass of wine high.

“And I want to properly toast two of her very good friends, who took a long detour all the way to St Pancras in the lashing to fetch said lost companion. And her luggage, not to forget. Not an easy task for a wee woman like me, if you’re asking.”

Kate rose and lifted her glass too.

“Yay us,” She said and smiled.

“Yay you,” said Victoria, raising her glass back at them and giving them both fond looks. ”I would’ve been even more late, and wet, if you hadn’t came and fetched me at the train, so thank you. And you’re right, Rach, I really should learn to pack less stuff.”

With an outburst of giggles, they all drank again.

“And lastly,” Victoria said as she in turn rose to her feet, “To tonight’s chef, and her ‘scrumptious cuisine‘.”

Kate rose again.

“Without whom we’d all be eating pub grub down the Horseshoe seven days a week, which would not end well for our wallets, or waistlines.”

“Hey,” Rachel said with grumpy face, “If you want to keep your rebate and my good will, you better stop talking trash about my work.”

“I’m just saying–”

“Cheers to the awesome cook,” Victoria interjected and drank, and the others followed.

“And _lastly_ lastly,” Chloe said, “A special toast to our unintentional guest, Maxine. I’m glad you could join us tonight, and I hope you feel wel…”

She paused.

“Oh, look at that.”

The others turned and stared at Maxine.

Stuffed with too much food and wine in combination with jet lag, Maxine, suddenly awash with acute drowsiness, had put her head down to get some much needed rest, if only for a second. Now she sat slumped at the table, snoring peacefully with her cheek against the table cloth, a slack hand still holding on to a fork.

“Awww, poor little bird,” Rachel cooed.

“Oh my, she didn’t even make it to the dessert.” Kate said and rose. “Come on, Rach, let’s get her to bed, that looks a bit uncomfortable to say the least.”

They carried away the sleeping Maxine to the nearby sofa and tucked her in without her waking up even a little.

“Talking about dessert,”Chloe said when all were back at their seats, “Sherry and panna cotta, anyone? Yay or nay?”

Rachel and Kate both shouted; “Yay!”

Victoria laughed and slapped Chloe gently on the shoulder.

“Awesome fucking hardcore punk dessert, if ever there was one. Count me in.”


	2. Swizzled part 2: Thunder And Lightning

Maxine woke up by a loud thunderclap. Immediately after there was another one, even closer. The sound and lightning was so intense it made her gasp. She dove down under her blanket with a beating heart and stayed there until the rumbling had finally died down. When she peeked out again she saw that she was alone, and the spacious room was dark and empty. The large table was clean and all tidied up, and the chairs stood in order around it. The room seemed strange in the darkness and brief flashes of lightning, and it had an unfamiliar smell. Somehow it made her feel lost and alone, and a long, long way from home.

During the night the storm had worsened, and now the windows were constantly attacked by cascades of water relentlessly thrown at them by a wailing wind. The thunder continued to rumble, and Maxine lay still with eyes shut, counting seconds between lightning strikes and the sound, praying that the thunderstorm was going away and not coming closer. She just wanted to go back to sleep, but that turned out to be impossible. Not only because of the thunder and lightning, but she also needed to pee, really, really badly.

Her need started to get really uncomfortable, and how much Maxine wanted to stay under her warm blanket, she just had to go. Then she realised that she had no idea where the bathroom was. Well, she had no other options than to go look for it.

Maxine rose and wandered through the darkened dining and living room. The big old tick-tock clock standing beside the kitchen door showed a little past three. She pussyfooted past it into the little kitchen which was as clean and tidy as the dining room before it. The worn smooth clinker floor tiles were cold against her bare feet as she shuffled out in the hall.

The hall was as narrow and full of clothes and footwear a before, if not more. Except for the front door straight ahead, there were two doors under the stair that Maxine guessed were closets of some kind, and two regular doors. Maybe the door farthest away was the bathroom? It was that door Chloe had went through earlier when he had fetched the dressing gown for her.

Carefully she turned the oval door knob and entered. It was not a bathroom but much larger. Before she could backtrack out again, something stirred in the dark.

“Uh, who is it?” Chloe’s voice slurred.

“It’s only me.”

“Who’s me?”

“Maxine.”

“Oh, hello Max.” Chloe turned on a reading lamp beside her bed and sat up. She was wearing a red and black t-shirt with ‘Punk’s not dead’ written on it. She rubbed an eye and yawned. “What’s the matter, love? Can’t sleep?”

“I, eh, I can’t find the bathroom.” Max said and stole a glance at her surroundings. It was clear that this room had once been the parlour of the house, with a large bay window front and centre. Now the room was full of Chloe’s not very ordered stuff. Maxine counted at least four guitars or bass guitars hanging or standing along the walls.

“Ah, the loo’s right behind you,” Chloe said, “Under the stairs. But take the second door, the first’s a wardrobe.”

She laughed a quiet laugh.

“You should have been here when Rachel took the wrong one. We’d been out all night, just coming home, and she was really drunk and really in need. She rushed in and did her thing, and it was only after it was too late Rach understood that she was in the wrong place. She was so bloody pissed, in both senses.”

“Or maybe thrice the senses?” Maxine suggested.

Chloe laughed out loud. “Right, exactly!”

“I really need to go now,” Maxine said, “Sorry for waking you up. Good night.”

“‘G’nite, see you tomorrow.”

When Max had closed the door Chloe laid down and put out the light. But she didn’t sleep, instead she stared up in the dark ceiling while listening to the rain and thunder outside, thinking.

* * *

Maxine pulled up her pyjama bottoms and was just about to tie the waist strap when the small bathroom exploded. Or so it felt at least. The bang was absolutely deafening and from the wall socket ten inch flames extruded in a bluish flash. The little lamp in the sloped ceiling went out with a ‘pling’ and left the room pitch dark. Outside in the hall the telephone started ringing to add to the chaos and confusion.

With a shriek Maxine barged out in the hall, stumbling into the little hall table, and with a crash she threw herself through Chloe’s door, then stood there breathing heavily, cold sweat tickling her back and brow. There was a burnt smell of ozone stinging her nose.

“Oi girl, it’s not tomorrow yet, is it?” Chloe said from her bed.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” Maxine panted, “I just–, I just don’t like thunder.”

“Yes, that was too bloody close!” Chloe said. Maxine heard the repeated clicking of a lamp button in the dark, but there was no light.

Chloe muttered something and went up from bed. Maxine could hear her rummage around.

“I should have a torch here somewhere.”

“A torch?” Maxine said, imagining something from that Indiana Jones movie she had seen last year, and still loved.

“A battery powered portable lamp?” Chloe said as she felt through another box in the dark. “My guess is that you have them where you come from, too.”

“Oh, a flashlight, you mean. Got one in my suitcase.”

“I meant torch, but go get it then, love.”

Maxine went out in the hall where her big suitcase still stood, adding to the general clutter. After some stumbling around in the dark, she found it, and soon she had the flashlight in her hand. The first thing Maxine saw when she lit it was an overturned chair and a broken flower pot on the floor.

“Oh no.” She said, trying to assemble up the pieces of china and dirt somehow, but there was not much she could do.

“What?”

Chloe appeared in the doorway. She had managed to both find and put on a pair of trousers in the dark.

“I think I broke Victoria’s begonia.”

“Well, it was as good as dead anyway, we’ve got other things to worry about. The torch, please.”

Maxine handed the flashlight to her.

“Wait here,” Chloe said and begun climbing the stairs in long strides.

The prospect of being left alone in the dark didn’t seem all that great to Maxine.

“I want to be with you!” she blurted out. Then she added in a low voice, “If I’m allowed, of course.”

Chloe, who was already halfway up the stair, turned and shone down at her.

“Alright, come along then.”

They came up to the landing, which was just a hallway with lots of doors. Everything seemed calm here. Chloe walked up to the nearest door and knocked lightly.

“Wicked, are you awake?”

Victoria’s voice answered from the other side.

“Are you kidding me? What the hell was that?”

“I think we got hit by lightning, I’m going up to check. Power’s out too.”

“Yeah, I noticed. Be careful.”

Maxine followed Chloe to a door in a corner. On the other side a steep and narrow stair led up in the dark. Chloe sniffed the air, then she began to go up the small and high steps.

“Watch out here, Max,“ She said, “There’s a bit of a tumble should you misstep.”

The attic was large and lay just under the roof of the house, and it was packed with a plethora of old things. A round spoked window sat just below the roof-ridge up where the two slanted ceilings met. The smell of dust and musty old things was heavy, but there was no traces of smoke or fire in the air.

As they walked deeper into the maze, Maxine grabbed Chloe’s hand and held it hard, expecting a ghost or a monster to appear any second in the darkness among the jumble of stowed away furniture, boxes and chests.

“Who’s stuff is this, anyway?” She whispered, as if talking loud would lure the evil murderers, ghouls and monsters out.

“Oh, this is all Miss Olivier’s things.” Chloe answered as she let the light beam play over an old smoking table jam-packed with lamps and boxes, and two frayed armchairs filled with embroidered cushions, “I guess it’s her nephew’s now. He took over the house a couple of years ago, after she passed away. He rents it out now, of course.”

Being up here in the middle of the dead Miss Olivier’s old belongings gave Maxine the creeps, even if she was there with Chloe. She almost expected to see the apparition of an angry old woman, bonnet and everything, come gliding towards them at every step, to wreak a horrid revenge against every foolish living soul who dare intrude on her domain. Maxine kept very close to the girl in front of her, hugging her hand fiercely.

“Aren’t we done yet?” She pleaded in a small voice.

“We have to check the old office too,” Chloe said, “Just to be sure.”

Suddenly they were at a plank wall and a door. They entered and came in to a small room with angled roof and yellowing medallion wallpaper. The air was stale but not as musty in here. An ancient decorative desk and chair stood against a wall, and boxes and books were piled in stacks all over the place. There was also a slim but sooty cast iron stove for warmth to the side. The farthest wall was just wide enough for a window and windowed balcony door overlooking the rooftops ahead and the street far below. Chloe gave Maxine the flashlight and criss-crossed over the smooth wooden plank floor and went through the door beside the window and out on the small balcony. Gripping the railing she looked up at the roof outside. The rain was still washing down, and in seconds she was soaked. Chloe came in again and closed the door behind her.

“No fire can possibly burn in this,” she said and shook off the water from her hair like a wet dog. “We should be safe, let’s go back.”

* * *

When they came down from the attic the hallway was empty, but they heard Victoria and Kate talk in muffled voices downstairs:

“Dammit, I need some more light here, Kate.”

“I’m sorry, the candle is as bright as it is. Precisely one candela.”

“Yeah, yeah, get it closer, then… Ouch, too close!”

“Sorry!”

“Nah, it was my own fault. Fuck, it hurts.”

“Let’s go cool it down in the kitchen.” Kate said, “Frozen peas are good for that.”

“Yeah, I give up. I don’t think there are any here.”

When they were down from the stairs, Maxine and Chloe saw that the door to the wardrobe under the stairs was open, and the flickering light from a candle shone out through it. Chloe rapped the open door.

“The cavalry is here,” She said, “Max and her marvellous ‘flashlight’”

Victoria looked out, holding up a hand to shield her eyes.

“You’re too late for once. And we’re out of fuses.”

Chloe shone with the flashlight into the little triangular wardrobe.

“Did you check on top of the fuse box?”

“Of course I did, peach.” Victoria answered in a surly tone. “No strays on the floor either. But be my guests if you want to check for yourself.”

“I trust you, but there’s a problem with your frozen peas. Two, actually.”

“Yeah?” Victoria gave here a confused look, “What?”

“Firstly, without fuzes they won’t stay frozen for long. And the secondly, I used them all to the samosas.”

Victoria stared at her, then nodded.

“Crikey, you’re right. We have to check the freezer.”

Together, the four girls went over to the kitchen. Kate opened the freezer compartment and started to go through its content with the help of Max’s lamp.

“Anything that will go bad?” Victoria asked while she poured cold water from the kitchen tap on her hand.

“Well, what do you think of this apple sauce?”

“Apple sauce will be alright.” Chloe said from where she sat on the large stone kitchen bench, dangling her long legs.

Kate opened a plastic box and peeked inside.

“I think this is shredded coconut?”

“Also okay.”

Kate took out a large square plastic box from somewhere in the back of the freezer.

“How about this, um, Morelli’s Gelato?”

They all looked at each other in the darkened kitchen.

“Well,” Chloe said, “Better check if it’s not something else stored in that ice cream bucket before we get ahead of ourselves. Could be just potato soup or something.”

Together they opened the lid. It was full of pristine frosty vanilla ice cream imbued with swirls of glistering red strawberry jam.

“Sorry, ladies,” Victoria said, looking around with an apologetic smile, “Looks like we’ll have to eat that right away, or it will get totally spoiled.”

“Ice cream at four in the morning!” Kate whooped and clapped her hands. “I’ll light the candles in the dining room.”

“I’ll get the bowls,” Victoria said.

“And maybe I’ll do a toffee sauce with whats left of the butter and cream?” Chloe said, “Won’t take long.”

No-one objected to that.

* * *

They ate as much ice cream and toffee sauce as they could, and still there was a lot left in the box and sauce pan. Chloe got some bottles of beer for them too, not because they would go bad otherwise, but just because. Now they sipped on their bottles in the candle light around the table. Outside the rain didn’t show any sign of subsiding, but the rumblings of thunder was heard less and less frequently.

“Any sane person would go to bed now,” Victoria said as she leaned back on her chair in her silk pyjama, her hands clasped behind her head. “But I’m not feeling tired yet.”

“Agree,” Chloe said and took a swig from her beer. “To both.”

“Me neither,“ said Kate. “Are you up for a game of Monopoly, or Mah-jong? Or maybe Cards?”

“Cards would be fun.” Victoria said and rose, “We haven’t played that in a while. I’ll fetch a deck.”

They started with playing a couple of rounds of four player whist, and Maxine won handily when they counted together the points. Then they played some runs of Anaconda. Maxine won again in total, though with Victoria at a close second this time.

“Damn it, Max,” Victoria said, “You are fucking ace with cards, dude.”

It was the first time Victoria had said anything at all to her. Or even acknowledging her existence. It made Maxine blush and stutter out a meek thank you.

Victoria ruffled, shuffled and cut the deck expertly while she turned her attention towards Kate.

“Alright. Me and Crikey have both chosen games. Your turn now.”

“Hmm, I don’t know…”

Kate glanced at Maxine.

“Do you have a suggestion, Maxine? Is it Max or Maxine, by the way?”

“I’ve never been called Max before, but both are fine. I think I like Max, actually.”

“Okay, Max, what game should we play?”

Maxine didn’t have to think for long; it was a given. She had a favourite card game that no-one at home had wanted to play with her for a long time.

“Bullshit!”

“Finally something I can win,“ Chloe said with a laugh.” It’s squarely inside my area of incompetence.”

Kate gave Maxine a wide eyed stare for a couple of second, before she understood that it was a card game she had referred too.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I’m afraid I don’t know that.”

“Also called ‘cheat’, or ‘bluff’,” Maxine said, “Or ‘doubt it’?”

“Oh, _that_ game,” Kate said with a smile. “Yes, that’s fine with me.”

Victoria started to quickly and methodically deal out the cards.

“Okay, let’s play.” She grumbled, “And this time I’m going to fucking win.”

They started to play. It was soon clear that Kate was a hopeless bullshit player who never bluffed and never guessed right whenever she called out someone else bluff. Chloe was pretty good, but both Victoria and Maxine were really good. 

“I would never have guessed you were such a good liar,” Chloe complained when Max had exposed her bluff for the third time, “And that I was such a lousy one.”

Maxine grinned back at her.

“The basics is that you should only bluff with cards that have already been played or that you have on hand. Else you’re only asking for trouble.”

“You mean there is tactic involved too, not just lying?” Chloe shook her head. “This is too bloody complicated for me.”

“Easy with the free tips, for fucks sake,” Victoria said and put down a card on the pile, “Seven of diamonds.”

“I know we’ve been at this before, Vee,” Kate said, “But I really don’t like the way you are using that word all the time. Eight of clubs.”

“What? Fuck?”

Kate sighed.

“Yes. You’re degrading something beautiful between two persons by using it that way.”

“Nine of hearts, clubs and spades,“ Maxine said, and added three cards to the pile.

“Really? I’m degrading it?” Victoria said, “How do you know?”

She put two cards on the pile, “Ten of diamonds and clubs.”

“Jack of hearts,” Chloe said and put down a card from her hand.

“How do I–,” Kate said,“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’ve never done it, have you? Waiting for Mister Right and marriage and all that?”

“Yes, but–“

“So I figure you don’t really know if it’s beautiful or not. Except from what you’ve read. Or ‘read’” Victoria made a couple of one handed air-quotes,“In so called ‘Men’s Magazines’?”

“Hey,” Kate said and pointed at Victoria, her cheeks beginning to colour.

“You know what, Kate,” Chloe said, “I really respect your choice.”

“Thank you, Chloe.”

“Oh, come on, Crikey.”

“Well, it surely isn’t _my_ choice, but as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone, I think everyone is entitled to their own choices, right?I wish I had waited at leats a couple of years longer than I did, and for the right person. Would’ve spared me some trouble.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” Victoria sighed, “I’m sorry Kate, that wasn’t very nice of me.”

“It wasn’t, but apology accepted.” Kate said, then she added with a smug smile, “_If_ you let me win.”

Victoria laughed.

“Oh no, babe, I’m not _that_ nice. But I am really sorry, I guess I’m only jealous. Hopefully it will be beautiful for you.”

“Can’t say beautiful is the word I’d use to describe it,” Chloe said, “But whatever. Who’s turn is it?”

“You know what?” Victoria said with a smirk, “I think Rachel’s the only one who’s doing it right in this house.”

“Aha, intriguing,” Chloe said and drank a mouthful from her beer, “Elaborate, please.”

“Well, she know’s how to do it and to really enjoy it.”

“Yeah? How do you know?”

“Well, I live wall to wall with her, and the wall aren’t _that_ thick.” Victoria grinned, “So I know.”

“It’s my turn,” Kate blurted, her cheeks had taken on a scarlet colour, ”Queen of diamonds.”

“King of clubs,” Maxine said.

“And fucking ace of hearts,” Victoria said and slammed down a card on the table, then she looked over at Kate, “Hmm, sorry.”

“Ace of Spades.” Chloe said as she played out a card.

Maxine knocked on the table.

“That’s bullshit.”

“Oh, what the hell, Max, give me a break.” Chloe said and glared at her, “Seriously?”

Maxine tilted her head with a sweet smile.

“Yup, seriously.”

“This damn bloody game,” Chloe grumbled and picked up the pile for the fourth time.

They continued to play, and as Kate’s and Chloe’s hands grew thicker and Maxine’s and Victoria’s hands grew thinner, the tension around the table started to rise.

Victoria threw a card on the pile.

“Ten of spades.”

“Jack of spades,” Said Chloe.

Kate played one of the many cards from her hand.

“Queen of clubs.”

Maxine put down a card, one of her last.

“King of clubs.”

“Bullshit,” Victoria interjected triumphantly, “You already played that card.”

“Oh, did I now?” Max said with an enigmatic smile.

Victoria stared at her, trying to discern any hints of deception.

“Yeah, no way you have the king of clubs there.”

“Are you really sure?” Maxine said. “If you’re wrong you’ll have very little chance of a comeback. And you only have three cards left.”

Victoria’s face contorted in anguish.

“Yeah, but you have only two, and isn’t it very convenient for you to have a king right now?”

“I agree.”

“And it would be very satisfying to see you pick up that pile.”

Victoria nodded to the stack of cards that had grown steadily the last couple of turns.

“I bet it would,” Maxine said in a light voice. “ So?”

“I mean, what are the chances?” Victoria said.

Maxine shrugged.

“You tell me.”

“Yeah, I say… bullshit.”

Maxine put her hand on the card, then she paused and looked back at Victoria.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m fucking sure, quit stalling already.”

“If you say so.”

Maxine slowly turned over her card.

…

“FUCK!”

Victoria slumped back in her chair and slammed both her palms over her face, grimacing, then she slowly picked up the large pile of cards and stared at it. She knew the chance of her winning now was completely out of the question.

“Lucky me,” Chloe said and played out a new card, “See if you can beat the four of hearts, Kate?”

“No, dear,” Kate said, “I doubt you’ve got the four of–”

With a frustrated howl, Victoria threw her playing cards with considerable force out in the room, spreading them all over the floor.

“Hey!” Kate protested,” We’re not done here.”

But Victoria didn’t listen.

“Fucking little snarky bitch,” She growled as she rose and stomped over to Maxine and, towering over the slim girl, grabbed her by her shoulders and lifted her straight up, staring her intensely in the eyes.

“Easy there, Vee,” Chloe said with a worried look, but Victoria didn’t pay her any attention at all. Instead she pulled Maxine’s now pale face close to hers’s with a snarl on her face. Her eyes burned like coals.

“Damn it, Max, fucking _damn_ it, you… you _got_ to teach me how to play cards like that.”

Maxine nodded, “S-sure, anytime.”

A voice broke the silence in the room.

“I can’t sleep the way you are roistering about. Perhaps you haven’t noticed that it’s fecking five in the morning!”

A dozy Rachel stood in the doorway, clad only in a quilt wrapped around her body, her red blonde hair stood out in all directions. She looked at Victoria’s angry face and the playing cards littering the room. A crease appeared between her eyebrows as she stared back at Victoria and Maxine. “You are not fighting, are you? That seems like an awfully uneven match to me.”

Victoria put down Maxine, muttering a sorry.

“Yes, it was pretty uneven, “Chloe said with a relieved laugh, “But not the way you think. Wicked just got her ass seriously whooped for once.”

“Oh?” Rachel said with a surprised look, “That is great to hear. Who won then?”

“Max,” All three answered in one mouth, but in different tones.

“Interesting,” Rachel said as she strolled over and pulled out a chair. She casually adjusted the quilt to cover her breasts that had peeked out when she sat down. “So, what are you playing?”

Chloe nodded at the floor full of cards.

“Autumn storm, by the look of it.”

“You’re not using this, are you, love?” Rachel whispered to Kate and grabbed her beer bottle. It was barely started on. She took a swig and put it down, then her face took on an annoyed expression.

“What the hell? Are you persons eating my ice cream? I was saving that for special occasions!”

“Consider this a special occasion then,” Kate said. “And anyway, It would’ve been all melted in the freezer, now when the power’s out.”

“As if it’s not all melted now?” Rachel said in a surly tone, “But alright, give me a bowl.”

Kate fetched her a bowl and Rachel filled it to the brim with soppy ice cream and cold toffee sauce, then started to scoop it up with a stoic face.

Victoria sat in silence and gazed at Maxine with a creased brow. After a while Maxine was starting to feel a bit uncomfortable.

“You know what,” Victoria finally said, “I owe you a proper apology, Max.”

“Don’t think about it,” Maxine mumbled.

“I already have, so here it comes.”

Victoria took a deep breath.

“I know I have a bit of a temper...”

“You don’t say,” Rachel muttered between two ladles of ice cream soup.

“And I have a hard time taking a loss,” Victoria continued, “In just about everything. Sometimes it makes me say or do things I don’t mean…” She let out a long sigh, “But that’s no excuse. The way I behaved, Maxine, it was not okay. I know it and I’m really sorry, and I will better myself. I promise.”

Maxine looked back into Victorias intense blue-green eyes, and she saw real regret there.

“Thank you, Victoria, “She answered, “I appreciate it.”

“Wow, thats the most sincere apology I think I’ve ever heard from you, Wicked, and I’ve heard a lot of them,” Chloe said. “What happened?”

Victoria gave one of her rare sheepish grins.

“Well, there’s always room for improvement, even for me it seems.”

She looked around the table.

“Time for me to hit the sack, guys. I have the season’s first game tomorrow, so I should at least try and get a couple of hours sleep.”

“Who are you playing?” Kate asked.

“Bromley. They are a tough bunch, but we will win.”

“I’ll be there watching, strutting that red white scarf,” Chloe said, looking at the others, “Come join me if you like.”

“What do you play?” Maxine asked Victoria, “Is it soccer?”

“Yeah,” Victoria answered with a nod, “But they call it football here, which is quite logical if you think about it.”

She picked up her beer bottle, bowl and spoon from the table and rose.

“Good night, all.”

The others said their goodnights too, and soon the cards were picked up from the floor, the kitchen table was cleared up, the candles where put out, and Maxine was alone under her blanket in the sofa again. Sleep came quick and stealthy as a ninja, and before she knew it, Maxine was snoring calmly, while morning’s first blush illuminated the eastern sky outside the house’s large backyard windows.


	3. Swizzled part 3: Revelations

Chloe had been right when she said that things would feel better in the morning. To Maxine, it also felt a bit melancholic. Outside the late morning sun shone trough the open windows, letting air in from the small and badly kept backyard. The old grandfather clock had woken her up when it rung nine dings about half an hour ago, and now Maxine sat in her pyjama with the others around the dining table again, drinking tea with milk and eating slice after slice of toast with strawberry jam, while listening to their chatter. She was keeping silent and watched the four girls banter and joke with each other like only really good old friends could, and it made her feel like an outsider here. She still thought Victoria was a bit scary, but oh how Maxine wished she could be a part of all this. She sighed and reached for another warm toast from the bread basket, though she wasn’t really hungry any more.

“Max, you should try this,” Rachel said and handed her a small glass jar with a yellow and red label. Maxine turned it over in her hand.

“Marmite? What’s that?”

Suddenly she got all eyes on her. Rachel continued with a sweet smile;

“It’s for your toast, love, instead of marmalade.”

Maxine looked around at them.

“Why are you all staring? Is this some kind of joke?”

“No joke,” Chloe said and waved her half eaten toast, which had some brownish goo spread over it.

“Dead serious,” Victoria said with a stone cold gaze, and showed that she also had a toast with the same spread. Demonstratively she took a big bite and started munching.

Kate nodded in agreement, but said nothing. She just continued to slowly stir her big cup of tea while watching Maxine intently.

Maxine lifted the jar up to her nose and gave it a sniff. It definitely smelled funny, like old sour dough or something, only stronger, but absolutely not inedible. Growing up in a small fishing town made you get used to various types of smells that others would consider both strange and gross. Maxine spread out some of the brown sludge on her slice and, under everyone’s close scrutiny, put it in he mouth with a furrowed brow, not sure what to expect. The taste was salty and full and yeasty, and had a definite ‘hmm’ quality to it.

Rachel gave her an inquiring look.

“Well?”

Maxine continued to chew, then she swallowed. 

“Well,” She answered with a serious face to match the serious atmosphere around the table, “I don’t love it, but it’s not horrible.”

“That’s all right, isn’t it?” Victoria said, looking around at the others, “I mean, I almost puked my first time.”

“Yes, that’s good enough,” Chloe said with a grin, “Maybe we can make a brit out of you still, Max.”

Right now, Maxine wanted nothing else but to be one of them, and it made her smile almost foolishly.

“For the record,” Rachel said, “I hate that shite. It’s fecking disgusting.“

“And that’s why you’ll never be a brit, Rach,” Kate said.

Maxine gave Rachel a surprised look.

“Aren’t you British?”

“Hell no!” Rachel said and puffed up her cheeks, “I’m a proud Irish girl.”

“Yes, but i thought–”

“You’re thinking of Northern Ireland, cailín.” Rachel said, winking at Maxine, ”I’m from the big metropole of Kilkee on the west coast, very far away from Belfast.”

She made a large gesture in the direction of the kitchen to show just how far away from Belfast Kilkee was.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Max said, ”I don’t think I’ve heard of it.”

“Not that strange,” Kate said, “It’s about ten houses or so?”

“Don’t be daft, there’s thirty cots there, at least!” Rachel said and elbowed Kate in the midship with a force that was somewhere between playful and rough. It made Kate yelp in surprise and spill tea all over her front and lap.

“Oh, my,” Kate griped and peered down at her soiled night gown. 

“A leithéid de phraiseach uafásach,” Rachel muttered, “Sorry love, I’ll fetch you a rag.”

She stood up and as she trotted out in the kitchen, Rachel spoke to Victoria.

“From one metropole to another, how was the big apple? Everyone alright at home?”

“Yeah yeah, busy as always hoarding money.” Victoria answered, “Luckily they could take the time to hang out with me some, both old friends and family, so it was pretty good. But two weeks was more than enough.”

“You don’t miss New York, then?”

“Nope.”

“And Nathan?” Rachel asked as she appeared in the kitchen door.

Victoria gave her a long look before she continued.

“Nate is doing just fine. He’s in the stock market now.”

“Oh?” Rachel said as she threw a clean cloth in Kate’s lap and sat down on her chair again.

“You know, trading bonds and stocks, and currencies?”

Rachel’s face went blank.

“He, uh, buys and sells… money? Can you do that?”

“Yeah, sure, you can buy and sell pretty much anything.” Victoria waved a hand, “When I left for Europe three years ago, he said he would propose as soon as he made his first million. He’s not there just yet, but he gave me this now when I was in New York.” 

Victoria fished up a thin golden necklace from her collar. A ring dangled from it that glinted with shiny stones.

Kate whooped and clapped her hands.

“What is that?” Rachel asked. “A kind of pre-engagement ring?” Her wrinkled nose told everyone what she thought of it.

“It’s called a promise ring, but yeah, it’s pretty much just that,” Victoria said and put the ring back under her t-shirt.

“That’s really weird,” Rachel said and shook her head. “Are you going to pre-marry too, and pre-celebrate your family birthdays? Have pre-children?”

“I think it’s romantic,” Kate mused. “You’re getting married, Vee! Aren’t you exited?”

“Of course I am,” Victoria said, but she didn’t look all that thrilled. But, on the other hand, when did she, really?

“Can I have a look?” Kate said.

“Sure.”

Victoria removed the necklace and handed it and the ring over the table to Kate, who inspected the ring thoroughly. 

“It’s beautiful,” She said in a dreamy voice,”And a real Swarovski, no less.”

“You know about Swarovski?” Victoria asked, but it didn’t seem Kate had heard her.

“I understand it must be hard to be apart from someone you love, “ Kate continued as she handed the ring back to Victoria, “I mean, you meet, what, twice a year or so? Don’t you want to move back so you can be together?”

“Hey, don’t give her any funny ideas, please,” Chloe interjected, “We want our Wicked here, not on the other side of the Atlantic.”

Victoria shrugged as she put on the necklace again.

“When we marry I guess I’ll have to move back,” She said in a toneless voice, “But until then I’m staying here. I still got two years left at uni, and the football.”

“But you got practically proposed to,” Kate said, “How did it feel?”

Victoria just shrugged again.

“Practically proposed to,” Rachel said with a scoff, “Come back when it’s a real proposal.”

“Oh, so you’re suddenly an expert on engagements?” Kate said, “I was thinking you’re the exact opposite.”

“Believe it or not,” Rach said, “But I’ve been proposed to so many times I’ve lost count. I do remember the first one though, sweet Robbie Kelly in kindergarten, but after that it just went fecking on and on…”

“Oh please, continue to brag,” Kate said, “Don’t mind us.”

“Nothing to brag about, cailín, it’s a nuisance that’s what it is.”

It didn’t look at all like Kate believed her.

“Have you ever answered yes to any of you many suitors?” Victoria asked with a rare smile on her face. 

Rachel paused and stared out in the distance. 

“Ay, once.” She mumbled. Then she held up a hand to Kate who just opened her mouth to speak, “And, I don’t want to talk about it. Sorry, love, but there’s a reason I live in this hell hole and not on beautiful green Éire.”

They all stared at Rachel, who defiantly stared back at them with a cocked brow, but saying nothing more about it. 

“Well,” Said Chloe, “As this seems to be the morning of revelations, I’ve only been proposed to once…”

The others looked at her in surprise, and Chloe smiled back at them and took a sip from her tea mug.

“...and that was with a pull tab from a Löwenbräu.”

“Oh, how romantic,” Victoria said with a jocular sneer.

“I thought so at the time, yes. But I was young and foolish and he was like ten years older than me. As you may have guessed, it didn’t work out in the end.”

“Wait, are you saying you _actually married_ this man?” Kate said, her eyebrows had shot up and threatened to disappear into her blonde hairline. 

“Yup. And to tell the truth, we’re actually still married, but I haven’t seen the bugger in over five years l think.”

“Savage,” Rachel said, clearly shaken,“I bow down for you wisdom, Chloe. You’re the only one here who actually knows what you’re talking about!”

“It’s… It’s incredible,” Kate mumbled, “How come you’ve never said anything?”

Chloe just shrugged. “I guess it never came up?”

“Did you say _five years_?” Victoria said, “How old were you when you married?”

“I was sixteen, or just about, and Frank was twenty-eight. We lived together for a year or so, before I bailed out and ended up here in the Smoke.”

“Damn,” Victoria said, looking at Chloe with both admiration and pity. “You’ve obviously been through some fucked up shit, babe. What did your mom say? Or did you just, like, elope?”

“She had passed away years earlier, but I doubt she would’ve agreed.”

“Ah, sorry I forgot, but your dad, then?”

“We couldn’t have married without his consent, so I guess he wanted me out of the house. To be fair, I guess I wanted out of the house too, it wasn’t too pleasant a place after mom died. I don’t miss him.”

Chloe looked out the window with a thoughtful expression.

“I miss old Brum Town though. And my friends. Half of them ended up here eventually, but I still miss the other half.”

“You’re a Brummie?” Rachel said.

“You couldn’t tell?” Kate said. She stood up and put her hands to her sides just like Chloe use to do, and she did her best to imitate Chloe’s voice;

“Oy loyk moykn induyn fud.”

Chloe laughed. “Not far off, Kate.”

“I’ve always though you were from Liverpool, “ Rachel said, “Beg you pardon for not knowing all your dialects and funny speech. I’ve only been living here for what is it now, two years.”

“Whats a Brummie?” Maxine asked.

“If you’re from Birmingham, you’re a Brummie.” Kate said.

“Oh, I see,” Maxine said and lifted the cup of tea to her mouth. She had no idea where Birmingham was or what kind of town it was. If it indeed was a town, in Maxine’s mind it could as well be a county or something like that. There was so much she didn’t know about a lot of stuff. 

“How about you, Max?” Rachel said and winked at her, “Your’e not secretly married, are you?”

Maxine got tea in her throat when she tried to draw breath and drink at the same time. When she was done coughing, she managed to get out a wheezing “No, I’m not.”

Kate patted her helpfully on the back. 

“Do you have a fiancé back home, then, like Vee?” Kate asked.

That wasn’t an easy question to answer. Maxine and Warren had been a couple for about a year. It had started really intense, as it had been the first real relationship for both of them. The last couple of months their feelings had somehow fizzled out, or so it had seemed, and they had left their relationship hanging pretty much in the air when she left for Europe. They hadn’t said they were not together, but they also hadn’t said that they were, really. Maybe one of the driving forces behind her decision to not stay in Arcadia Bay had been to just get away, so she could avoid a painful break up with Warren. At least she thought it had been now, even if it hadn’t been clear to her back then. Hoping the problem would go away if you ignored it long enough, that sounded just like something she would do, even if that tactic seldom worked out in the end. Without realising it, she had let out a long troubled sigh.

“So, it’s…complicated?” Rachel asked with a skewed smile.

Maxine bobbed her head ambiguously. Victoria nodded knowingly at that.

“Yeah, tell me when it’s fucking not.”

Talking and thinking about home made Maxine realise something that she had completely forgotten. Something really, really important.

“Shit,” She muttered under her breath.

The other looked at her, then at each other before bursting out in laughter.

“That’s certainly one way of describing it,” Chloe said, grinning widely. 

“Oh, no, not that. “Maxine said and rose up hastily, “I need to borrow the telephone. I promised to call home as soon as I arrived, then things started go out of hand and, well, I forgot.”

Maxine grimaced as in pain. She imagined the terrible angst her mom and dad must have felt as the hours passed while no Maxine called.

Victoria glanced at the grandfather clock.

“Well, it’s over midnight over there now, so maybe you should wait?”

“You’re from the east coast, right?” Chloe said, “So it’s even later. Add a couple of hours? Three?”

“Three,” Maxine said from clenched jaws.

So it was half past three in the morning at home now, and her parents where either livid or terrified. Or both. Probably both. Damn, but what could she do? She had to call now, there was no way around it. Waiting would only make it worse even if that was what she wanted to do, or just ignore calling at all. But she had to call home eventually, or her overprotecting parents would probably call the police or something. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“I better make that call anyway.” Maxine mumbled, “I’ll pay for it of course.”

Victoria nodded.

“Cool, you’ll find the money jar behind the flower pot on the table.”

Then she gave Maxine a dark look.

“Correction, where the flower pot _used_ to be.”

Maxine gave her a shy smile as she hasted away towards the hall where the telephone was. She felt like every second counted now, so she had to talk to Victoria about the broken flower pot later. Maxine sat down by the table in the old flowery cushioned chair and lifted the handset, then put her finger in the rotary dialler and rotated in the numbers. She felt how she tensed up as she waited for her mom or dad to pick up on the other side, but instead for a voice, the phone started to make angry beeps in short intervals. Something was clearly not as is should. Had she dialled the wrong number? Maxine put down the handset in the cradle and lifted it up again, waiting for the signal, then she dialled the number once more, extra careful this time to not miss any digits. After a short silence, the phone started beeping again in the same strange way. Frustrated, Maxine put down the handset on its switch again, a bit too hard this time. Then she lifted it up once more and dialled. But alas, the same damn beeping sounded from the earpiece. With a loud crash she slammed down the handset.

“Hey,” Victoria said from the door, “Take it easy, huh? We’ve only got one telephone, and we kind of need it.”

“It’s something wrong with the damn thing.”

“I’m not surprised, the way you’re handling it.”

“No, I mean, it works, but it just… _beeps_! And I really, really need to make that call now.”

Victoria walked up to her.

“It just beeps,” She said with one eyebrow arched, telling Maxine everything she needed to know about how Victoria felt about her. It irritated Maxine and she answered in a more angry voice than she had first intended.

“Yes, it beeps and I’m sure I dialled the correct number.”

“Show me.”

Grumbling, Maxine dialled the number for the fourth time and held up the handset. ‘Beep-beep-beep-beep’, it sounded, and Maxine shot a triumphant look at Victoria. It didn’t seem to rattle her in the least.

“So, let me ask you,” Victoria said, ”Did you also use the correct country code? As you are in another country now, you know.”

Maxine froze.

“I… I didn’t,” She said. 

“Do you know the country code for the U.S.?” 

“N-no,” Maxine said, “I’ve never called internationally before.”

“Well, lucky for you it’s so simple any idiot can learn it; just dial zero zero one.”

“Okay,” Maxine said, feeling tremendously stupid.

“So, zero zero one, then the rest of the number as usual. Got it?”

“Okay,” Maxine mumbled.

“And pretty please, try not to break the phone when you hang up.”

“Okay,” Maxine whispered.

When Victoria had left and closed the door to the living room behind her, Maxine leaned forward with a groan and smacked her forehead down on the little table with a thump.

* * *

When Victoria sat down at the table, the others looked questioningly at her. 

“Was there a problem?” Chloe asked.

“It was a yankee yokel problem, just as I thought.”

“She didn’t know how to use a telephone?” Rachel asked.

“Something to that extent, yes.“

“Really?” Kate said, “She who seemed so smart.”

Victoria shook her head with a grim smile on her lips.

“Never underestimate the power of ignorance and bad education.”

Rachel crossed her arms and blew away a strand of red hair that had fallen down over her face.

“I like the girl,” She said.

“Well,” Kate said, “Birds of a feather flock together.”

Rachel scoffed and was just about to say something when Chloe interrupted her.

“I like her too, and I’ve been thinking.”

“About what?” Victoria asked.

“That maybe we could make room for her after all.”

“You got to be kidding!” Victoria said and threw up her hands.

“Where? The backyard shed? Rachel’s wardrobe under the stair?”

“It’s not my wardrobe!” Rachel protested.

“Well, you’re the last one to leave your territorial markings in there.” Victoria answered, “Until someone else claims it, it’s yours, isn’t it?”

Rachel stuck out a pink tongue at her and grimaced, “Oh, how funny you are.”

“Well,” Chloe said, “Max is sure small enough for it.”

Victoria stared at her.

“You’re not serious.”

“No, silly, of course I’m not. I was thinking about the office in the attic.”

“Oh,” Rachel said.

Kate nodded.

“That’s… actually a good idea.”

Victoria wasn’t as enamoured.

“Who in their right mind would want to live there?” She scoffed, “It’s tiny, it’s draughty, and it’s kind of scary. And it’s already full of books and stuff. What will we do with all those things?”

“There’s plenty of room to store the books out in the big attic,” Chloe said with pleading look at Victoria, “We could at least ask her?”

“I agree with Chloe,” Rachel said,”I think we should keep her.”

“She’s not a pet,” Kate said, “And we do vote unanimously on important things.”

“I know that,“ Rachel said, glowering at Kate, “But do you really not like her?”

“Actually, I do,” Kate said, “I think she’s really sweet and I wouldn’t mind her living with us.”

“So, we vote then,” Chloe said and looked around. ”Do we want to let Max have the attic office? If she wants to? Yay from me.”

“Yay!” Rachel said and put up a hand.

“Yay from me too,” said Kate.

Chloe turned to Victoria.

“Wicked?”

“Ah, I’m not sure. There’s something about her that grates on me.”

“It’s not just the sore loser who speaks now?” Rachel said, tilting her head to one side with a meaningful look.

“No-o, it’s not that, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

She sighed.

“I guess it’s more of a me problem than a problem with her.”

They all looked at Victoria while she leaned back in her chair and thought, arms crossed over her chest. After a short silence she sat up again and cleared her throat.

“As you all seem to like her so much, who am I to poop the party. Give her a month, and we’ll decide for real after that?”

“Fine with me,” Chloe said. Rachel and Kate both nodded in agreement.

“Okay,” Victoria said,” Then it’s a yay from me too, but we have no idea what Max wants herself.”

“Now you’re unnecessarily gloomy, Wicked,” Chloe said with big smile on her face, “Of course she can’t turn down such a colourful ensemble in such a charming old dump of a house?”

“Surely not…” Victoria said with a scowl.

“Splendid!” Kate cheered and clapped her hands, “I can’t wait for us to give her the good news!”

They sat and talked, mostly about Victoria’s upcoming football game, while waiting for Maxine to return from the phone call. After ten minutes, they were out of tea. When fifteen minutes had ticked by, their conversation wasn’t as natural and flowing as before. When the clock passed the twenty minute mark, they began to give each other looks.

“I hope the girl is minted,” Rachel said, peering towards the hall, “This long a call to the americas can’t be cheap.”

“You’re right about that,” Victoria said. “It’s my main excuse not to have to report home more than once a week.”

Chloe put her index finger to her mouth, signalling to the others to be quiet. They all fell silent and listened, but they couldn’t hear even the faintest sound from the hall.

“That’s odd,” Kate said with a creased brow.

“I’ll go and check if she’s alright.” Chloe said and rose with a worried face, “I can always say I needed to to to my room, or the loo, or something.”

Chloe left for the hall. She disappeared through the door but came back just seconds later.

“What happened? How is she?” Kate asked, her eyes wide.

“She’s…” Chloe shrugged, “She’s gone.”

“You’re joking, right?” Victoria said and stood up so hastily her chair almost fell over. The others rose too.

“I wish I was.” Chloe said, “Come look for yourselves.”

They all rushed out in the tiny hall. It was empty. Maxine’s suitcase was gone too. A pristine ten pound note lay neatly folded in the money jar, but that was the only trace they found after her. They ran outside and looked both ways up and down the street. There was no sign of Maxine anywhere.


	4. Goals

As the captain, Victoria was the first of the team to arrive at Hayes Lane. She parked her Vespa P200E at the player’s entrance and locked her helmet to the front wheel. It had taken her months to not freak out when driving her scooter on the wrong side, or at least not on the right side, but now she felt fairly comfortable navigating the streets, bridges and tunnels of the sprawling city. The Underground was very practical for sure, once you had deciphered which line went where, and from which platform, and busses were abundant, but still she preferred the freedom of driving wherever she liked, whenever she liked. Buying the Italian motorcycle from a friend of Kate two years ago had been one of her best investments to date, and she took care of it with all her heart and attention.

Victoria slapped the Vespa’s black leather seat for good luck as she passed it on her way to the rusty open gate that was the visiting players’ entrance to the Hayes Lane pitch, while removing her heavy duffel bag from her shoulders and shifted it to her hand. It contained her match gear, an extra pair of cleats, a towel, a change of underwear, some extra team-shirts and shorts and shin guards in case any of the girls had forgotten theirs, two footballs, a stack of small orange training cones, a pack of one-use mugs and a couple of bottles of concentrated raspberry juice. Hopefully, she hadn’t forgotten anything important on her checklist. It was the captain’s responsibility to see that the team was prepared for the match. Well, maybe it was the coach’s responsibility, but their coach David was notoriously unreliable. He was alright, an ex footballer and ex military man that was good at shouting at them, but not much for making things run smoothly. Victoria suspected this coach job was part of some community sentence, and that was why he wasn’t really fired-up for it. But he was never violent or over the top aggressive, and way better than their old coach, who had done zilch except walking into their changing room at the most inappropriate of times. It was unbelievable how many excuses that man could come up with. Back then Victoria had more or less shouldered his duties. She had been the coach, if not in name, and organised all the stuff the girls themselves couldn’t take care of. When David had replaced him shortly thereafter, maybe she hadn’t given him the chance to actually do his job. Being the acting coach was often a pain in the ass but Victoria didn’t want it any other way, and David didn’t complain. 

At the international football camp in Italy this summer she had taken both referee and instructor-classes, as well as the mandatory physical training and football practice. There had even been vocalisation training to get her somewhat squeaky voice to reach all over the football field. Victoria had been the only woman, and it had definitely been some friction when it was discovered that she had ‘forgot’ to write out the last two letters of her first name when she had applied. A sizeable chunk of lire and ‘furbizia’ had removed the problems because when in Rome, do as the Romans, and all that, and she had learnt a ton, so the month-long trip had been totally worth it, despite the unforeseen additional costs and awkwardness that had ensued in the beginning. Now it was time to put everything she had learnt to good use. Including, of course, swearing in Italian.

Victoria dropped the bag by the freshly painted sideline and looked out over the wide green. It was almost a year since they’ve played at Bromley’s home stadium, but what Victoria could glean, not much had changed. Hayes Lane was a good football court by their standards, with thick, nice, short and even grass and about one-thousand three-hundred seats. Not that there would be any one-thousand three-hundred visitors for todays match. If the spectators topped one hundred heads they would be lucky, but still abysmal compared to the forty-thousand cramming together to watch a Premier League match. Victoria didn’t play for the audience, even if it would be fun to play for a massive one some time, like at the Highbury. She would _love_ to play at Highbury, but even the best women’s soccer teams didn’t draw any crowds to speak of, and would probably never do. Not in her lifetime.

But, she had her own little audience coming to cheer her on, and that should count as something. Victoria played for the game and for the company, and, quite frankly, to win. She couldn’t deny that she liked to extend herself to the max, to score, and, yes, to stand victorious, when they deserved it. Up to last season Victoria had usually played center where her strength and size gave her a great advantage in one-on-ones and air duels. As the center midfielder she played now, she had less opportunity to score goals, though it still happened, but it gave her better control of the game and the match, so in a way it was even more rewarding to win in this position, as she was intimately involved in strategies and tactics, and their execution. She was the fulcrum of the team, or ‘fulcro della squadra’, and she loved it. She also had to shout a lot, and run, and run, and run.

Last time they had played here at Hayes Lane the game had ended nil-nil, and they had definitely not deserved that. It was just by sheer luck that they had managed to get a goal in the last minute, despite being against the run of play for almost the whole second half of the match. Bromley Ladies was a great team, but this time they could win. No, they _would_ win. She felt it in her heart, her muscles, and in her bones.

Victoria stomped around on the grass at both goals and found the ground in front of the left one a bit soggy after yesterday’s rain, so it would be preferable to start there. In second half the goal area would be all muddy ands slippery so better play this side while it was okay. She looked up searching the sky. It was crisp blue, dotted with small fluffy clouds. No menacing, rain filled shapes for as long as she could see. The match would begin at one p.m. sharp, so, sight-wise, the sun wouldn’t pose a problem, or at least equal problems, at any of the goal areas. 

Victoria had changed into her secondary team kit, white shirt, red shorts with white stripes, and white socks, and had already warmed up when the first batch of girls from her team arrived.

“Hi skipper!” they shouted and waved at her, smiling. Victoria waved back, her yellow captain’s armband that Rachel had sewn for her, properly on display. Joanna, who played left defender, held up a large, empty plastic can. Victoria gave her a thumbs up.

“Great, Jo, concentrate’s in my bag!” she shouted back. 

Fifteen minutes later the whole team was assembled, changed and ready. Victoria’s watch showed that it was less than thirty minutes to the kickoff, so they’d better get going. Victoria counted through the players. Then she cursed. Actually, not everyone was here.

“Has anyone seen Chrissie?”

The girls looked around, but no-one answered.

“Anyone knows if she’s coming at all?”

“Think so,” Saanvi said, an elfin girl who played right midfielder. She was also the one who knew Chrissie best. Victoria sighed.

“Aright, let’s assume she won’t, until she’s actually here.” 

She searched among the faces for Gemma. Broad, red-haired and freckled, and as tall as Victoria, she wasn’t hard to find. That girl had a fearsome right foot that served best from a corner forward position, but she could dribble, and no-one messed with her in close combat either. She did lack Chrissie’s supreme nimbleness, awareness, and dynamic play style though, but on the other hand, who didn’t. Victoria nodded to her.

“Gem, you’re playing center forward. Phoeb, you take Gem’s place on the outer.”

Phoebe, one of this match’s designated substitutes, punched a fist in the air.

“Yes!”

Victoria smiled inwards at the girl’s enthusiasm. She kind of felt the same. This was their first game for the season, and it was clear everyone was stoked for it. She clapped her hands.

“Alright, gals, let’s get to it. Gemma, you lead the warm up.”

* * *

The suitcase was heavy as lead when Maxine lugged it down the steps of the Chalk Farm tube station, but the heart inside her chest felt even heavier. She stopped at the underground platform and toyed with the idea of throwing herself down on the tracks when the rain arrived, if only to give her parent something real to be upset about. They way they had acted on the phone, it seemed like she was both already tragically deceased, _and_ needed to be gruesomely spanked for it. Maxine hated to admit it, but Victoria had been right. If she had waited making that call to her parents, then maybe everything would’ve been different. Oh man, that phone call had been a complete disaster. Her father had picked up after just one signal, and the dread in his voice had been palpable…

“Hello?” he had answered, sounding out of breath.

“Hi dad, It’s Max, um, Maxine.“

There was a slight delay when she signal travelled all the way to the other side of the planet, then she had heard her father gasp at the other end, and Maxine had known this was going to be… awkward. 

“Maxine! Where on heaven and earth are you!?!”

“I’m sorry–“ She had begun, but halted herself when she heard him talk to her mother off the phone, and how she answered in the background with a loud wail of relief. Not good.

“Dad, I’m sorry for calling this late,” she had continued when he was back on the phone, ”everything’s alright. It was just a problem with–”

“This is NOT all right, young miss!” her father had barked, “your mother has been _in-con-soo-laaa-ble_, crying the whole evening, and haven’t been able to sleep. None of us have! What were you thinking, calling this late!? We thought you’ve had a seizure and was lying helpless somewhere. Or worse!”

There had been a slight tremble in Maxine’s voice when she had answered.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry I should’ve called earlier. But I didn’t have an attack and I have my pills, right here.”

She had grabbed the small bottle of carbamazepine pills in her pyjama pocket and had shaken it absently, producing a low rattling noise. Though it had been more than six months since her last epileptic fit, she carried her medicine with her everywhere she went. A pill should be taken twice a day with meals, they wouldn’t help at the moment of a seizure. But still, it made her feel safer.

“There was just a misunderstanding with the housing, that’s all.” she had continued, “I’m fine. Really.”

Her father had been silent. When he had spoken, she had heard suspicion creep into his voice. 

“What misunderstanding?” 

“Well, the house wasn’t at all what I expected, but I’ll manage.”

Maxine had bitten her tongue, acutely aware of that she had said way too much.

“What do you mean ‘not what you expected’? What is it that you’re not saying, Maxine?”

“I, uh, no, I mean, there’s no problem, everything is cool. Absolutely, totally cool.”

Maxine had nearly smacked the telephone earpiece in her forehead, before she had remembered that she should be careful not to break it. Had she really said ‘totally cool’ to her dad? Now he would be totally convinced she had started shoplifting, smoking pot and sleep with boys left and right.

“Maxine,” her father said in his low, serious-father voice,“ I sense that you aren’t completely honest with me. Tell me _exactly_ what happened.”

And so she had. Maxine couldn’t lie to her father to save the world, let alone her own skin, so she had told him the whole truth; that she had lost the money, had stayed the night at a house full of complete strangers and now had nowhere to live for the rest of the term. Maxine had tried to assure him that she had already made good friends, and would find a new place to stay, but her father wouldn’t listen. She was about to turn twenty-one in two weeks time, but Maxine had never felt so infantilised before. Her parents had ordered her to come home on the spot as if she was a disobedient child on the run, and that was that. All the way home to Arcadia Bay where they could watch over her for the rest of her life, she presumed. Damn for being an only child and with an… impairment.

Carefully she put down the phone handle after promising that she would go directly to the airport. She put some money in the jar behind the telephone. Hopefully, it would be enough, she had no idea what it did cost to make a call overseas. It was so much she didn’t know, so much still to learn and discover. The world was huge compared to little safe and secluded Arcadia Bay, and she had never felt it more clearly than right now. As melodramatic as it was, Maxine felt how her future was slipping through her fingers. At least _a_ future, and one she would’ve liked participating in. But home she went.

Maxine had heard the clinking of cups and the talk and laughter from the others in the living room. She had risen to go out and say goodbye to her newfound and soon to be new-lost friends, but had found it was too painful. She was bound to begin crying, and she hadn’t wanted to feel more childish that she already did, so instead she had decided to write a goodbye note. After rereading it, she had cringed by its overly emotional tone and had crumpled it up and lobbed it into the waste bin. Then she had got out of her jammies and found an oversized plaited gauzy tartan batwing shirt in blue, yellow and green hanging among the other clothes in the hall. She had pulled it over her head and looked at herself in the mirror. It was more of a wide, short dress than a shirt, and her bare legs had sprouted out like two twigs from underneath the hem. But as a whole, it had looked really cool. In it, she was daring and stylish, like a real grownup, and nothing like when she wore her regular outfits. It also had a nice little button pocket for her pill container. There and then she had decided that she would keep it, as a memory. She had never stolen anything before, not really, but if this was a first, it felt like the right thing to start with. Her damp clothes from yesterday that still hung in the laundry room she would just leave. 

She had put on her sandals, grabbed her suitcase and left, silently sneaking out from the hall, then had closed the front door as silent as she could. But before walking away, Maxine had paused, resting her hands on the scruffy green paint on the door and leaning her forehead on it for a minute. She probably looked ridiculous standing there in her too-big-shirt-as-a-dress and dull, tangled hair that hadn’t been brushed in days, with her scruffy old suitcase, but she really didn’t care. What she grieved, though, was that she hadn’t been able to take a photo of her friends before she left. But now it was too late. She better leave before anyone found out she was going. Maxine had sighed and picked up the heavy suitcase. She hadn’t even had time to get their phone number. 

* * *

“Oi!”

Chloe leaned over the steel railing that fenced off the spectator area from the pitch. Beside her stood Cagney and Lacey, or rather, well, Kate and Rachel, 

waving with both hands. Chloe had her hair in a tall mohawk coloured in a pinkish red to honor the day. She gave Victoria a wide grin.

“Looking good in that white team shirt and tan, you Lothario!”

Victoria jogged past the gang and waved. When they waved back energetically with their red-and-white striped scarves over their heads and with loud whoops, almost dancing a small coordinated jig, she couldn’t help but smile. This was her crew, inside and out. To her surprise, Victoria felt that it was bit of a bummer that Maxine wasn’t there too. The way that little guttersnipe had just disappeared felt strange. But, no matter. The match was about to begin, so she had no time to stop for a chat. Still, no David, and no Chrissie. They would manage, though, they had a solid, well-rested team ready to play, and she herself, for once, knew what she was doing as the team leader. Victoria stopped at the center circle where the centenarian-looking referee and the captain from the other team waited for the coin toss to decide which goal to play. 

“Heads or ships?” the referee asked Victoria, as they were the visiting team. 

Victoria huffed and bounced on the balls of her feet, eager to start.

“Ships.”

The referee threw the coin high up in the air, where it painted a glimmering line against the bright blue background. He caught it on its way down and smacked it on his forearm, then carefully lifted his palm for a peek. 

“Ships win.”

Victoria nodded towards the north goal.

“Alright, we take that side.”

She reached out and took the hand of the other team’s captain, a dark haired ice queen with a headband and a piercing blue gaze that she probably hoped would intimidate Victoria. Anyway, it didn’t. Victoria squeezed her palm.

“Good luck.” 

Then she raced off against their own goal, pointing at it with her whole arm.

“Take your positions, gals! We’re on!”

In the corner of her eye she saw David rush in from the player’s entrance, but as soon as he entered the player area, he started to walk calmly and sat down on the bench where Claire and Valerie were riding the pine. He gave Victoria laid back wave and adjusted the cap on his head against the sun. At least he got here.

Because Victoria’s team had won the coin toss and could choose goal first, the other team begun with the ball. The shrill noice of the whistle signalled the start of the match and Bromley quickly made their way forward, dodging and passing through the defending centerfielders. Bromley’s center forward really could dribble a ball, and she nutmegged between Gem’s long muscular but maybe not that quick legs before passing the ball to her comrade to the left. The pass fell short though because Victoria rushed forward and nicked the ball with an outstretched right foot. 

“Turn around now, dammit!” she roared as she got the ball under control and looked for someone to pass. Before she had the chance an attacker tried to tackle the ball away from her, but Victoria easily sidestepped. Seconds later she was swamped by three players, and she had to shoot it up along the left flank.

Melanie was there and ran like the wind. Or like the breeze? In any case, it wasn’t fast enough, and she hadn’t started the run in time. Victoria winced when a Bromley defender snatched the ball and made a long pass over the centre line, opening the possibility of a counter attack. Her team needed to work on both tactics, speed and endurance, that was clear. Victoria wanted to growl a long line of expletives but that would only get her a yellow card. As the team captain you needed to have fire in the belly but ice in the brain, or ‘Fuoco nella pancia ma ghiaccio nella testa’ as they had said at the football camp. She was working on that, so Victoria shouted;

“Good chase, Mel! Everyone, work homewards!”

The game continued to balance back and forth without any real opportunities for either team. Bromley ladies were good, there was no question about it. Their defence was solid, but their offence had a tendency to lose steam just when it needed it the most, outside the penalty area. Victoria saw that it would help greatly if their midfielders followed the attackers up in the pitch more closely, and it was only a question of time until Bromley’s coach would notice that too. She needed something to counter that, and also something to punch a hole in hat solid wall of backs that made it so difficult to even get a chance to shoot at their goal. What they needed was Chrissy. She would make a mess of Bromley’s defence with her quick sprints and nimble ball control, then Victoria would assign Gemma to block any midfielders who tried to advance on their turf. But Chrissy was probably hanging out somewhere unsafe with her rabble friends, not giving a right toss about this match. Too bad because the girl really could hotdog.

Now they had a goal kick after a Bromley attacker shot at least twenty feet above the crossbar, and Victoria waved and urged her players to move further up the field. It had been a chance shot, and not a dangerous one, but her team hadn’t had even that so far.

“Come on, girls, move, move, gimme some spirit!”

Kerri, their goalkeeper, made a long kick down the field. Gemma caught the ball with some effort, and started to sprint up the right wing.

“Follow up, everybody!” Victoria bellowed as she herself ran past the center line and into enemy territory. 

* * *

Maxine entered the almost empty underground train cart. As the doors behind her wheezed close, she took a seat and brought up her map over London. It was still damp after the raining yesterday, and a couple of pages had stuck together. The backside was mostly undamaged and showed a small map over the underground. Maxine followed her route with a finger. She should change trains at King’s Cross, then go to Oxford Circus. From Oxford Circus she should continue to Paddington Station, then from Paddington she should find the special airport tram to Heathrow. At Heathrow Airport she would contact the service desk at USAir and get more instructions. If she was lucky, her parents had managed to book a flight that left early tomorrow morning. She didn’t look forward to spending the night at the airport, but add a day to that and it would be nigh unbearable. 

Maxine opened her suitcase, careful not to spill any of its content on the not so clean floor, and rummaged around for her brand-new Sony Sport Walkman. She found it and untangled the headphones and put them over her ears. Soon ‘Little Red Corvette’ by Prince sounded in her hears. Her parents didn’t like that she listened to Price, or Michael Jackson, David Bowie (is he a boy or a girl?), or Donna Summer. Maxine had worked her ass off down at the diner the whole summer, so she could buy whatever she wanted without having to ask first. They hadn’t liked her working there either (too many shady people visiting), and they had been absolutely livid when she had taken the four-hour buss trip alone to Portland to visit the Music Millennium store and to the Galleria. She also went to the Big Bang to dream about some cool clothes, but she hadn’t bought anything. She wasn’t ready to take that fight just yet. Her paren’t seemed to think she was still thirteen which was extremely annoying. She knew they only wanted what was best for her, but at times that was suffocating. And she really didn’t want to listen to parents-approved artists like Genesis, Phil Collins, Asia, or Elvis Presley. Her mother was a huge Presley fan, but Maxine suspected _her_ parents hadn’t vetted him before letting her listening to his music. Her mom had probably smuggled in singles and listened to them on her small Fidelity & Wye portable record player that she still had, though something had broken inside it; the turntable didn’t turn any longer. 

When Maxine looked up, she noticed a group of young men sitting and talking some seats away. They had probably got on at Camden station. One of the boys, a cute one in a stylish houndstooth jacket, a Slim Jim knitted tie, and with dark hair that he wore in long locks down the side and back of his head, continued to shoot her glances. He quickly looked away when their eyes met. Maxine also looked away, blushing and acutely aware of her tangled, dull hair, no-make-up face, oversized shirt, and scrawny legs without trousers. Now she was almost glad she was leaving all this, never to be seen again. Ever.

The trio of boys continued to talk and laugh, but now all of them peeked at her when they thought she didn’t see. It was probably her they were talking about and laughing at. Actually, there was no ‘probably’ about it, it was crystal clear. Maxine scrunched her brow and raised the volume on her walkman, staring intently at the yellow music player she clasped in her knee. In two stops she would get off this horror ride anyway.

The train rattled through a bend in the tunnel, squeaking and moaning, making a sound that was a pretty good approximation of how Maxine felt. 

A pair of black shoes appeared at the fringe of Maxine’s vision.

“Hello, doe-eyes.”

She twitched and stared up at one of the young men standing in front of her.

“I won’t bite ya,” he said and grinned. “Nice music box.”

She must’ve unconsciously pulled her walkman close, because the boy frowned at her.

“Relax, doll, my mate over there just want to know your name, s’all.”

He thumbed over at the boy in the houndstooth jacket.

“Aden’s too pudding-hearted to ask himself. We named you Doe-eyes, but that’s prolly not your real name.”

“I… Uh.“

Max glimpsed over at the dark haired boy. He looked both terrified, hopeful, and like he wanted to string up himself with his tie, all at the same time. Moving her eyes back to the boy in front of her, she blushed.

“No, uh, I’m Max.”

“Max? Like in Mad Max? That’s wicked!”

Wicked? Wasn’t that what Chloe called Victoria? Victoria was stately, self-assured and not afraid to speak her mind, albeit with a bit of a temper. She was everything Max wasn’t. Why would anyone look at her when there were women like Victoria? Or Rachel. Beautiful, feisty Rachel, who talked so fast it was hard to understand sometimes. Maybe it was her dialect. Or Kate. Gentle, charming and wholesome, always stylish in her own subdued way. Or Chloe. Impossible to characterise, but with a kind heart behind all that attitude. How she missed them already. 

A noise from the boy in front of her dragged her back to reality. Apparently, he had been talking to her this whole time.

“…is that possible?”

Maxine looked up, confused and embarrassed.

“Sorry, what?”

Her words drowned in the high-pitched screech the train made while braking. The boy in front of her swayed in the deceleration, hanging on to a handrail reaching down from the carriage roof. He looked mildly annoyed.

“We’re going to see Bauhaus on Hammersmith this Thursday,” he shouted over the noice, “Aden would lose his bloody mind if you were there, and I would love to see him lose his mind, yeah? Can you come?”

Maxine darted a look over at Aden, whose face was now red as a tomato. Her cheeks were pretty hot too, she’d never been asked out by someone she hadn’t known since kindergarten, if you could call this being asked out. But scary as it was, it also ignited a small spark of excitement in her chest. Wasn’t this what she wanted, what she longed for? Go to awesome concerts, meet fun and interesting, and, dare she say it, good-looking, people, and, like, live life? But there was no point in wishing fo things that wouldn’t be. Maxine rose abruptly as the doors to the train cart hissed open.

“No, I…” she mumbled, “I can’t. Got a boyfriend and all.”

The ‘all’ was, of course, that she was going back home to America. To Arcadia Bay. Somehow she couldn’t get that fact out her mouth. To say it was to make it real, as it wasn’t real enough already. 

The boy shrugged.

“Yeah, but–”

Clenching her jaw, Maxine took her walkman in one hand and snatched up her suitcase in her other and stumbled for the doors. Unfortunately, she hadn’t fastened the latch locks, and as she lifted her whole suitcase gaped open, showering the dirty floor with her personal stuff. In panic, she hasted out from the train, leaving a trail of shirts, skirts, socks and underwear in her wake.

“Hey! Doe-eyes!” someone shouted after her, but it only made her stare even more furiously at her feet and quicken her steps. A few clothes was a cheap price to pay to get out of this horrible situation. Maxine grabbed the now almost empty suitcase in her arms and ran up the stairs and out the gates of… Euston? Wait, this wasn’t King’s Cross? Snivelling, she looked at the big sign over her head again. It said EUSTON in large, blue block letters. Oh, poo. She had jumped off at the wrong station. 

* * *

Victoria glanced at the match clock. Four minutes to half time, and they hanged on the famous thread. For the last fifteen minutes or so, Bromley had attacked relentlessly, leaving little time for resting up, and her team was in dire need of a break. If they could hold out until the half time whistle blew, they would have a much-needed breather and some gulps of sugary water to reenergise. 

“Hustle, girls!” Victoria shouted as Jo won the ball from an attacker and played it up the field. The ball came her way, and she felt the strain i her legs when ran to pull away from her opponent. There were none to pass the ball too, and when a couple of Bromley players ganged up on her she was forced to kick it out of play for a throw in. A Bromley defensive player ran away towards the sideline to make the throw. Just as Victoria had feared, the Bromley coach had ordered the defence to follow the offence up towards their goal, but simultaneously successfully managed to shut down every attempt to a counter. Victoria had already made a couple of mental notes on tricks and tactics she had seen them do that she would like to try out, but the obvious, and most important, thing was that the Bromley players were in a much better physical shape. Victoria had a small suspicion that her players hadn’t kept up their endurance workout during the summer break. But, unbeknownst to them all, the lazy fucks were about to enter a whole new world of pain. Oh yes they were, Victoria grumbled inside. Just wait to the next practice.

The throw in was long and well aimed, but Gemma stole the ball anyway and headed it towards Victoria. Not many could match that lovely six feet carrot top in an air duel. Victoria saw an opportunity develop, took the ball down on her chest and ran with it.

“Follow up, everyone!” she bawled and dribbled past an opponent player that tried to get in her way, then she sprinted as fast as she could along the right sideline, keeping the ball rolling in front of her with her toes. No-one could match her speed, and soon she closed in on the Bromley penalty area from the right side, her preferred side. Glancing over her left shoulder, she saw that the whole team was with her, albeit some distance behind. She felt her heart swell in her chest. Good, they could do this. There were also two Bromley players running after her with bared teeth, much closer than she had hoped. That was less good.

Victoria stopped the ball, pulled it deftly sideways and let her two opponents overshoot her, then she quickly turned up and smacked away the ball in a long arching shot towards the goal area, praying _someone_ would be there to punch it in, with whatever means possible.

Tabby was there, Phoebe was there, and Gemma was there. Perfect. But their timing wasn’t perfect, they were all a split second too late. The Bromley goalkeeper, a tall dark-skinned woman with curly hair in a thick ponytail, jumped up and snatched the ball out of the air with gloved hands, then swiftly threw it up the field, towards a pair of attackers dashing forward. Oh, shit.

“Watch out for the counterattack!” Victoria shouted and started to sprint back the way she had come.

“Run, bastards! Run!”

Her lungs were on fire when she moved back down the pitch, closing in on the attacking players and the ball with every painful leg movement she made. 

The Bromley attackers were met by Jo and May, but passing the ball between them, they managed to slip trough despite the offside trap May and Joanna had set up for them, and now had a free run towards Susan and the goal. Damn, they were fast, and neither Joanna nor May could match their steps, even though they were just an arms reach behind. Tears of pain blurred Victoria’s vision as she ran, still closing in, as she saw Susan rushing out to meet the attackers just outside the penalty area, making herself as big as she possibly could. But what could she do? Even if Susan did everything right, which she did, her chance of stopping the ball was miniscule. It rolled past, just outside her reach, and mockingly slow it strolled over the goal line by the left goal post and slouched into the net. Victoria was just ten feet behind, but when the referee blowed the whistle, she collapsed in a heap on the grass, gasping desperately for air while her heart threatened to hammer its way through her sternum. Somewhere in the back of her mind she heard the referee signal for half time, only seconds later. Good, she could really use some time to rest.

While the Bromley players cheered and danced around in the background, her team flocked around her with worried looks. Turning over on her back, Victoria scrunched her brow at them and waved dismissively.

“Just… ” she wheezed, “give… me… a… moment…”

Victoria did her best to look unaffected, but inside she felt like she was dying.

“Miiiiiinchiaaa…” she groaned under her breath. This match didn’t go at all like she had expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been long in coming, sorry about that. But next chapter (Goals, part 2) is halfway done, so hopefully it will be out in a week or two.


	5. Goals part 2: Sweat

The football match was almost over, and they were fucking loosing. After half time, they had turned around and created some good chances, but nothing that resulted in something. And a couple of minutes ago, the Bromley fucks managed to get one more goal from a corner kick. It has partly been Victorias fault. Well, maybe more than partly. She had tried to direct the others to a good defence that she had learnt during her football camp, but the others hadn’t understood what she had meant, and instead there had been utter chaos infront of the goal, where no-one was sure of what they should do. Victorias new knowledge and skills weren’t enough, they also needed to grind these new situations, over and over so they became second nature. Overthinking was if not the number one enemy of good footballing, it was way up there. Now morale was at rock bottom, and how much Victoria tried to pep the others, she could feel them loosing hope. So she had failed there too. Slowly, doubt came creeping inside her own heart. She knew they were good enough to win this match. They really were, but they needed leadership. That was her duty, something she had trained for weeks and weeks. And still this happened. With a better Captain, they could’ve won, she was sure of it. They had one more substitution to do, and more and more she wanted to substitute herself. If only. 

She cleared a ball out over the sideline when Gem didn’t have the stamina or geist to run for it. She had done a great game, Gemma, but she was tired now, that was clear to anyone. They all were. 

While a Bromley player walked over to pick up the ball for a throw in, Victoria heard a high pitched noise from nearby. Her head jerked to the side towards the sound. She recognised that finger whistling.

Chrissie Cox stood at the sideline by the technical area. She was in her match kit and waved her arm while jumping up and down when she caught Victoria looking. It seemed like she pretended she wasn’t two hours late.

Instead of being happy to see her, Victoria felt anger rising. Really? Now was the time to come? Fifteen minutes left and two goals in the ass? What did she think she could accomplish in fifteen minutes? Chrissie was good, but not _that_ good. And everyone else was pretty worn out, and she wouldn’t be able to do anything on her own. This was a team sport after all. 

Victoria swallowed a string of curses and instead shouted to Gemma to run for the sideline. The tall girl had fought like a hero, but looked more and more slow and tired, so instead of putting her back on the left wing, she should rest for the rest of the game. Gemma gave Victoria a thankful wave of the hand as she trotted towards the technical area and the bench.

With energetic steps, Chrissie loped in on the pitch, slapping hands with Gem and Melanie as she passed them on her way to Victoria, who greeted her with a dark look.

“Thank you for coming, Chrissie,” she said in a voice that seeped with sarcasm, “I want you to take position high up front. Wait for long balls and run like hell, okay?”

Chrissie’s big smile waned somewhat at Victorias tone.

“Count on me, Captain. Like your tan by the way.”

Victoria waved her away with a wrinkle between her eyes. 

“Smalltalk later, Cox, now do your job.”

She pointed with her whole arm towards Bromley’s goal area.

“Just ten minutes, then you’re free to go home.”

Chrissie glowered back at her with a scrunched nose.

“Sure, be the broomrider all you want. Suits you bloody good.”

Victoria opened her mouth to give her another scolding, but then the ball was in play and demanded their attention.

The Bromley players attacked again, down on the right side, cutting deep through their defence. Victoria sprinted down to help, but threw a glance up the field as she ran. Chrissie hovered there, constantly moving aground to keep the defenders guessing, but she still wasn’t high up enough. Victoria urged her backwards with exaggerated arm movements.

“You’re not doing anything good there!” She shouted, then she turned and directed the play where the ball was.

The Bromley players seemed to have lost their edge somewhat. They were tired too, or, more likely, they felt pretty sure that they had this game firmly in their pocket. As time ticked on, Victoria started to agree with them. But she didn’t give up. All they needed was a chance. 

The ball bounced between the teams a couple of times, before Bromley managed to put together an attack that actually made it into the penalty area. 

Susan nabbed the ball before it could get dangerous and made a quick throw up the field to Mel, who kicked it further up the pitch. Victoria ran for it and won the ball in a duel against a bromley player, stepped out of her reach and looked for someone playable. Chrissie was too far up, as she should, but Phoebe came fast on Victoria’s left side. She had a new spring in her steps now. Victoria feigned a long pass straight over the court, but instead rolled the ball in front of Phoebe as she passed by. Phoebe continued to sprint up the flank while two Bromley defenders zoomed in on her. Before they came too close, Phoebe hit the ball hard, shooting it up high and fast towards the end line. In mere seconds it would pass it for the other team to collect, but now Chrissie came running like the wind. She easily outpacing her opponents, who had played almost a full match with a fair share of running. Chrissie caught up with the ball down at the right corner arc, turned it up and herded it towards the goal area. Phoebe veered off, making it clear that she could take the shot, but Chrissie didn’t make the pass, instead she used phoebe as a decoy, dribbling past defender number one, then turned around number two, making the Bromley player spin and almost losing her balance. Three Bromley players were now running on a collision course with Chrissie, who made a sudden change in direction, away from the goal and making the defenders stumble when they tried to change with her, then she shot the ball, but not towards the goal, it was much to crowded, but to Saanvi and Other Mel who came running hard up into the penalty area. Phoebe came in from the right side, and Victoria herself came running up from the middle. Half of Bromley’s defence were focused on Chrissie, the other half didn’t know where to put their attention with so many enemy players suddenly showing up, so they ran towards the goal. Mel took the ball, but as two defenders turned agains her, she passed again, and they seemed to have forgotten about little slender Saanvi, who received the pass perfectly, turned and took two steps, then kicked. A knuckleball straight up the corner of the goal. Nothing fancy, but hard and fast, and the time between Chrissie passing Mel, to Mel passing Saanvi, to the shot, was less than three seconds which was too fast for Bromley’s goalkeeper to keep up with. She did her best, throwing herself with arms outstretched, but the ball passed her grabbing hands and hit the net in the back of the goal with a crash. 

Victoria roared right out and leaped towards Saanvi, Mel, Phoebe and Chrissie.

They met in a big group hug in front of the goal. 

“What a screamer, Saan, it was perfect!” she said and mussed the blushing girl’s thick black hair, “Good job everyone.”

Then she sought up Chrissies gaze and nodded.

“That’s what I’m talking about, Cox, well done.”

Chrissie didn’t acknowledge that she had heard, but Victoria had no time for her behaviour. Instead she glanced at the match clock. Barely three minutes left. If she had been the Bromley coach, she would go over to play purely defensive now, and try to hold out for the rest of the game. They would probably succeed, but Victoria could see that the Bromley players where visibly unsettled by the goal. Herself, she could feel the old spark of fighting spirit re-ignite in her chest as she gathered her team around her for a last pep talk. Victoria wasn't much for speechifying, her words often ended up too poncy, like from a bad movie, if she wasn’t careful. Yet another thing she would have to work on, she supposed. 

“Okay, ladies,” she said to the ring of players around her, “I know you’re tired, but they will try to hide behind their shell now, and we got to pound and pound on them until we get though. We have three more minutes, and maybe not a lot can happen in three minutes, but we may get lucky. And the harder we work, the luckier we get, alright?”

She held out a hand in the middle of the ring, and they all slapped it.

“Three minutes of pain.” Victoria continued as the circle of player began to break up to move to their respective start positions.

“Three minutes, alright? Give it for the team.”

They stood ready for the whistle. And when it blew, it was clear that the dynamic of the match had changed radically. Bromley immediately passed the ball backwards and tried to have it play between them for a long as possible. Victoria urged their team up, but carefully and methodically, though not too slow. They would probably only have one go at this, so they had to make it count. The seconds ticked by, but the Bromley team managed to keep the ball between them, however much Victoria and her tema mates ran for balls, trying to break their play. Less than one minute now, and Victoria began to feel the hopelessness return again. Then Chrissie managed to steal the ball with a long foot and sprinted towards goal. 

“Chrissie, hold the ball!” Victoria shouted, then muttering “you fucking pigheaded bitch” under her breath as she ran. By herself Chrissie stood no chance of making it, but of course she didn’t listen. She dribbled and ran forward while the seconds ticked by. What the hell was she thinking? Five seconds was all they needed to catch up, to give them a chance to make something of this last attack.

“Cox, more smart, less clever!” Victoria bellowed at her, but Chrissie ran on, not looking back. She managed to get into the penalty area with the ball still in her possession, having dribbled past at least two players all on her own. But the space in front of the goal was as crowded as Buckingham palace a sunny summer’s day, and now everyone closed in on Chrissie like bees to honey. There was no chance in hell she would score now. Victoria put her hand in front of her face and growled. Game over. Twenty seconds to match end and what the hell was Chrissie doing, giving back the ball to Bromley? Was this some kind of weird revenge?

Chrissie was still trying to get through, moving the ball quickly to the left and right, then dashing forward. And suddenly she was flying through the air, then rolling on the grass, grimacing and holding her knee with both hands. The referee blew the whistle angrily and commotion broke out among the Bromley players. What the actual fuck had happened? The referee whistled again, even louder, and now he was pointing to the penalty point. The whole Bromley team ran up to the ref and started protesting, but it only made him blow harder in his whistle. Victoria’s eyes, though, where solely on the writhing shape lying on the green grass in front of the goal. Oh, shit. Chrissie!

* * *

Outside Euston tube station, Maxine sat down at the first bench she could find and, after wiping the moist from her eyes to be able to see properly, studied her London-map. Actually, she didn’t have to go to Kings Cross after all. She could just take a short walk to Euston Square Underground station, that was just nearby, and take the tube from there directly to Oxford Circus, and then continue to Paddington and the airport. 

She folded the map and put it down in her lap, and closed her eyes. Her thoughts and feelings were swirling around in her head like a hurricane. She just wanted to get away from everything, to have some peace and quiet. This whole trip had been a bad idea from the start, and she clearly wasn’t cut for the real world. In a way it felt comforting to head back home, where everything was like she was used to. No more surprises, please. 

When she had calmed down a bit, she picked up her suitcase, which was much easier to carry now by the way, and began to walk down Melton Street towards Euston Square. In moments, she arrived at the wide and heavily trafficked Euston Road that blocked her way, but found an underpass to the other side and, boom, she was at Euston Square station. Easy peasy. Apparently not everything had to be a struggle. 

She put down her suitcase and checked that she had her ticked handy. When she had reassured herself that she had it and that it was still valid, she put the flimsy piece of cardboard back in her shirt pocket together with her medicine bottle for easy access. She was just about to pass through the glass doors to the tube station when she heard music playing over the buzz of passing cars and buses. What could it be? A festival of some sort? It sounded like fun and seemed to come from just around the corner of the station building. Maybe she should check it out? She was feeling a bit hungry, not to mention thirsty. Surely she could find something to eat and drink there. This was also her last chance to do something else than just riding the London Underground and sleep in a random house, and it would be nice to be able to say that she had seen at least a tiny bit of London before going back home. With a new spring in her step, Maxine turned the corner.

After just a short walk she came upon a pompous white building with a large stair crested by a row of huge ionic-style columns under a wide triangular roof, and a dome rising above it all. She stopped in her tracks and stared at the massive structure and all the people mingling about on its wide stairs, sitting on benches, or lying or walking about on the green lawn. She immediately recognised it from the catalogue; The University College of London. Her university, where she would study photography, creative writing and journalism for the next three years. Or would have, if things hadn’t turned out the way they had. Compared to Blackwell Academy, famous in its own right and where she had gone to senior high school, this was so much more metropolitan and international. 

She stood in silence and stared at the commotion. She remembered something about a kind of welcoming event for new students, and it looked like she had stumbled right on it. The black metal gates to the university grounds were open, and there were flags and balloons and people wearing peculiar hats and colourful sashes herding groups of newcomers around. A small brass band stood on top of the stairs playing a lively oompah-oompah tune. It all seemed very playful and not at all as serious or solemn as Maxine had expected the University to be. On the contrary it looked quite fun and exiting. They had definitely rolled out the welcome wagon for everyone today. 

A part of her wanted to get away as fast as possible, another part of her never wanted to leave. How could she return to Arcadia bay and not feel alone for the rest of her life? She felt a loneliness that wasn’t for lack of company, but lack of belonging. Wasn’t it at a place like this she belonged? Definitely not in a small sleepy fishing town and bygone tourist trap, anyway.

“Excuse me miss, do you need help?” 

A young woman in an old stovepipe hat and a big bushy moustache came up to her, waving a sign that was painted in red and white in a swirling lollipop pattern, like something plucked directly from Alice in Wonderland. 

“No, I…” Maxine mumbled, barely audible over the background noise.

“What's your name, love?” the moustached girl asked, “which course are you attending?”

Maxine couldn’t take her eyes off the queer apparition.

“Uh, Max, photo journalism, course a-two?”

“Oh-la-la, a shutterbug! Then you are in Nicholas’ group.”

She turned and shouted.

“Oi, Nic! Got you a little straggler bug ‘ere!”

Maxine raised a finger.

“Uh, excuse me, lady, but I’m not going–”

The stovepipe girl didn’t seem to listen. 

“Well… Definitely had you pegged down as an anthropologist in the making, or _maybe_ literature. My misstake.”

She smiled kindly at Maxine beneath her false moustache.

“Welcome to uni, Max, I’m Chara, see you around.”

She waved her lollipop at her again and walked away, leaving Maxine standing there feeling like a fool.

Nicolas looked almost exactly like Charlie Chaplin, just much taller and lankier, with brown, curly hair, a bowler, eyeliner, and a toothbrush moustache painted in black under his nose. 

“Hello there, you can call me Nic.” he said and gave her a stern look from under the brim. “You’re late, but no matter.” 

He held a clipboard in his right hand and twirled a yellow pencil in his left.

“So, what’s your name then?”

“Uh, Max Caulfield.” 

He searched down the list on his clipboard.

“I have a _Maxine_ Caulfield here,” he said and looked up from under a sooted eyebrow.

“That’s me.”

“Grand, and your address?”

“Linden Road 109, Arcadia Bay.”

He glanced up again.

“Arcadia bay? Never heard of it. Is it in the east of London?

“Ah, no, sorry, my London address is, uh, umm, Spinner’s road 51, Chalk Farm.”

“Oh, right, splendid”. 

He wrote some more on his paper before looking up once more. He didn’t appear so stern anymore. Actually, he looked kind of cute behind all that makeup, but why had she told him that address? It wasn’t hers and it would never be. She shouldn’t even be here, but on her way to the airport.

She opened her mouth to tell him, but he beat her to it.

“This way then,” he said and beckoned her to follow with his clipboard, “Come and meet the others. We’re just about to do the tour.”

Like a sheep Maxine followed him in onto the university grounds. She waited for an opportunity to tell him she needed to leave, that she shouldn’t be here at all, but the moment never came up. Instead, she walked on, staring at his long swaying back while clearing her throat multiple times. When he turned his head and looked at her, Maxine’s heart did a somersault in her chest. Before she could speak, though, he had already started talking.

“I’m to be a photo journalist too, you know. Second year. What camera are you sporting, if I may ask?”

Magically, her vocal cords decided to start functioning again, albeit with a bit of a croak.

“An Olympus OM-2.”

He nodded.

“A classic, great apparatus. What lenses do you have?”

He heard Maxine gasp and turned to her.

“Huh? What?” 

Maxine stood with both hands over her mouth, staring back at him, then she squatted down, slammed her suitcase open and frenetically started to search it, all the while Nicolas stared at her like she was utterly mad. He furrowed his brow, and the stern look reappeared on his face.

“Mind telling me what’s going on here, Max? Because I don’t have a clue.”

“No, no, no!” Maxine squealed and looked up at him, still with her hands buried among her clothes and other belongings, the few that were left. “It’s not here!”

Nicolas looked totally lost.

“What’s not here? What do you mean?”

“I’m so stupid!”

She jumped to her feet and gave a wild sprint back the way she had come, her sandals slapping against the hot pavement and the batwing shirt flapping around her thighs. She left her suitcase wide open on the gravel path and Nicolas standing beside it with his mouth open, shaking his head. 

* * *

Victoria yelped and sprinted forward. Chrissie lay on the ground clasping her knee, grimacing and moaning. It looked bad, really bad. Victoria felt her heart turn to ice when thinking of Chrissie injuring herself. She was such a natural, such a talented footballer, she couldn’t have damaged her knee badly, she just couldn’t. Even David at the bench stood up and craned his neck to get a better view of what was going on. Victoria kneeled at Chrissies side, and, unable to hide her worry, she grabbed Chrissie’s shoulder. The words came tumbling out of her mouth more in a jumble than any coherent fashion.

“Damn it, Cox, how are you? Lemme see, does it hurt much? Should I get the ice? Do you need an ambulance?”

Chrissie removed the hand from her shoulder, but not in an unfriendly way, and sat up. 

“I’m alright,” she muttered as she began to fasten her left shoe that had almost come loose in the fall. Then she looked up directly at Victoria, and her face softened. 

“But thanks for asking, Cap.” 

She reached out a hand and Victoria grabbed it and helped her up. A few stumbling steps later, Chrissie could walk more or less unhindered, and Victoria breathed out in relief. Now it was the penalty kick, and an important one to boot. There hadn’t been many during her time as Captain, and she felt she needed some advice.

“Who do you think should make the penalty kick?“ she asked Chrissie as they went up in a jog towards the penalty point, “Tammie?”

“I think I should.”

“You?”

Victoria had to stop and look her over.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Chrissie said and glanced back at Victoria, “it looked way worse than it was.”

Did Chrissie wink at her? Had it all been… Oh.

Victoria shook her head in disbelief and was just about to give Chrissie a sour remark, but she had already jogged up to the penalty point where thee ball were lying waiting and ready in splendid isolation.

Everyone had lined up around the penalty area. The faces of the Bromley players looked even sourer than Victoria felt. This was not how to play football, even if Chrissie had given them a penalty kick in the last minute of the match. Had she really faked it? It had looked damn convincing from where Victoria had stood. But still, that wink…

Chrissie grabbed the ball and adjusted it slightly, then took a couple of paces backwards, waiting for the signal. When the referee blew his whistle, the goalie did a kind of strange dance where she stood on the goal-line, probably as a distraction, but Chrissie didn’t seem too fazed. She calmly trotted forward and kicked. The shot wasn’t very hard, but it was accuracy that was important here, and the ball flew in low by the right goal post. A perfect penalty kick, and not much the goalkeeper could do about it. She just stood there paralysed and let the ball pass, way out of her reach. A cheer rose from the team as they crowded around Chrissie, everyone except Victoria. The goalie picked up the ball and kicked it hard into her own goal in frustration. 

Victoria stood with arms crossed watching the celebration, not sure how she felt about it, but when the Bromley players joined the fray under angry shouts, pushes and curses, she ran into it too.

“Hey! Hey! Calm down, everybody! Calm down!”

With the help of the referee and the two linesmen, they managed to part the teams. Under sullen silence and the angry stare of the referee, both teams got in position for the kick off.

The referee blew the signal the start, then immediately whistled match over, even though Victoria was sure there was at least thirty seconds left of the game. 

The referee gestured to the teams to go their separate ways. There would be no ‘thank you for a good match’ among the players this time.

As everyone trailed off the football pitch, Victoria stood and watched in the middle of the field.

Incredibly, they had scored two — two. It almost felt like a win, though maybe with a bitter aftertaste.

“You’re the one running the show here?”

It was Ice Queen, the Bromley captain, who had strolled over to where Victoria stood. She gestured towards David at the bench, who sat leaning back, smoking and watching the sky. 

Victoria shrugged.

“Oh, yeah, kind of.”

The Ice Queen nodded. 

“You’re too modest. You’re really good, you know.”

“Uh, thanks. You too.”

In the silence that followed, they stood looking at each other, measuring the other woman from top to bottom. Then Ice Queen reached out a slender hand.

“Well, I just wanted to thank you for a good match, and all. I’m Anna by the way.”

“Victoria.”

They shook hands.

“Oh, and if you ever want to ditch these pickle ticklers,” Anna the Ice Queen continued, “we have use for someone like you. With your passion and skill, you’d fit right in.”

She gave Victoria a crooked eyebrow and an as crooked smile.

“I’d still be the captain, of course.”

“Oh well, in that case…”

Chrissie had snuck up on them and now she walked to Victoria’s side. She stabbed a finger at the Bromley captain.

“You piss off now if you know what’s good for you.”

The Ice Queen raised her hands and her eyebrows at Chrissie.

“Sure, no problem, I was leaving anyway.”

She turned to go, then she looked back at Victoria. 

“Think about it,” she said, then she turned her ice-blue gaze at Chrissie. 

“And Essex girl, watch out so you’re not tripping on your way back. Your boots seem a bit… slippery.”

Chrissie returned her icy stare with a deadpan face and gave her the forks. 

“Hey, Cox, behave,” Victoria said as they turned to walk back to the changing room, but she couldn’t help but smile a little. No-one could deadpan like Chrissie, not even Victoria herself. 

“Aren’t you from Jaywick, anyway?”

“Yeah, originally,” Chrissie muttered, “but that _is_ in Essex.”

Victoria chuckled and bumped shoulders with Chrissie.

“Ah, so she wasn’t too far off then.”

Chrissie gave her a dark look.

“Sod it, wanker.”

They walked back side by side. David gave them a wave and a thumbs up before he walked out from the stadium. He had done his part now.

“Don’t you dare jumping teams,” Chrissie said as their eyes followed David’s back out the gate, ”or I promise I’ll come and kill you.”

Victoria scoffed.

“Says the moron who misses every other training and didn’t even turn up today until the absolute last minute?”

Chrissie looked away, uncharacteristically hunched.

“I’m sorry for being the loose cannon, okay? Couldn’t get away from work. I had to cover for my dad. He’s… uh… sick.”

“Again?”

Chrissie gave her a side glance that would’ve turned a lesser being into smoulder.

“So what? He has these problems, and I can’t do much about it.”

Victoria could imagine just what kind of problems he had. Chrissie never talked about it, but from what Victoria had managed to puzzle together, her father always seemed bedridden every Saturday. Presumably after a very long Friday evening at the pub. But Victoria didn’t push it, though, instead she answered with silence. A kind of long, judging silence.

Chrissie shook her head.

“If I don’t do it, he’ll get sacked from his job at the tube, get it? And myself, I can only skive work so much. But I love football, you know it.”

Victoria looked back down at Chrissies frustrated face.

“Okay, okay, I get it, Cox. I just want to know you’re committed, thats all. You’re kind of the best player we have. As the captain I need to know if i can count on you.” 

Maybe it was unfair of her to demand so much of Chrissie. Football didn’t give her money on the table. Objectively, football wasn’t giving her anything in any way, except big leg muscles and a well-shaped butt. If Chrissie had been a guy, though, she could have had her future staked out. She would’ve played in the big leagues, raking in a perverse amount of money, no doubt about it. She was that talented, and focused when she wanted to. Unfortunately, there were no such possibilities for women players, so Chrissie would probably continue to work as a cashier or at the tube for the rest of her life. If she didn’t manage to marry rich, of course. She was awfully cute under all that makeup and attitude.

Chrissie stood glaring in silence, butting the toe of her football boot in the ground, and Victoria shrugged uncomfortably. Her sweaty skin made the shirt cling to her back in the breeze.

“Alright, Cox, last women standing. Let’s go get changed.”

* * *

Maxine ran from University College London at Gower street, down under the buzzing Euston road and all the way to Euston Underground Station. She sank down on the same old bench outside the entrance, her chest heaving and with a metallic taste in her mouth. Sweat was pouring down both her back and front, and made her clothes cling to her body in an uncomfortable and probably unflattering way. But she didn’t rest for long, just enough so she could catch her breath. Seconds later she was up again, through the gates and down the two escalators to the platforms buried deep in the bedrock. Down here the air was cool and now Maxine shuddered in her thin damp dress.

The south-going platform was almost empty of people, and of the contents of her suitcase, that should be spread all over the place, there wasn’t a trace. 

She searched the platform’s floor and corners, and in various nooks and crannies. Nothing. She even looked over the edge of the platform, down on the tracks, but there was nothing there either. 

“Drat!”

Then she got an idea, and started to look inside the litter bins that were spaced out along the walls. In the third litter bin she found some of her clothes. Finally!. She began bundle up her stuff in her arms when she felt a big fleshy hand on her shoulder.

“What’s going on here then?”

She whirled around and stared up in a ruddy, moon-shaped face. 

“Garbage theft’s a crime, mind you.”

Maxine took a step backwards as a stout guard, or ‘customer service assistant’ as his uniform coat badge said, towered over her. He was a huge man, with a sizeable double chin, frizzy brown moustache and a peaked cap on top of his large head, and he looked most displeased.

“Care to explain yourself, miss?”

Maxine shrank back in the presence of this angry mountain of a man.

“I uh, I… These are actually my things, so I’m not technically stealing, am I?”

Her voice trailed off when she saw his red face became even redder and his eyes narrowing as he glared down at her.

“So it was _you_ who left your wardrobe all over the platform for me to pick up,” he grumbled, “a police matter, littering is!”

Maxine imagined it must’ve been demanding for him to clean up the mess she’d left, bowing down despite that height and large belly. He didn’t look like the most dexterous of persons. She wondered what clothes had he had to pick up? Like, her underwear and stuff? Maxine blushed in shame. 

“It was a mistake, my, uh, my suitcase broke.”

“Is that so? Leaving your cutty sark for anyone to slip on?”

He grunted and put his massiva hands to his likewise massive body.

“The Underground is a dangerous place, miss, and no obstacles or hazards are allowed, for _any_ reason.” 

“No, I… I didn’t notice that it had broken, and it just–”

He gave her a grumpy look.

“Don’t give me any funny stories, young miss. That’s not how it happened.”

Maxine felt her face heat to a thousand degrees. For the second time today she wished she was a better liar. How the hell was it that she could straight up lie so effortlessly in cards, but when she really needed it… Liar, Liar, pants on fire.

“I… I…“ She mumbled, trying to come up with an appropriate apology, or _anything_ to say, really. 

The guard pointed in the direction of the exit.

“Off you go.”

Maxine turned to comply, but then looked back at him. It was hard meeting his eyes again, but she had to ask.

“I…”

She took a deep breath.

“Sir, I’m looking for my camera.”

Her question apparently took the guard by surprise. He lifted his eyebrows so high they disappeared up under his cap’s visor.

“A camera?”

“Yes, I must’ve dropped it around here. With my other… stuff.”

He shook his head.

“Sorry, miss, haven’t seen it.”

“Are you sure?”

He looked even more grim now, if that was even possible.

“Accusing me of stealing, are you now?”

“No, no, no, of course not. I was just wondering–.”

He was practically fuming, his face now a deep burgundy.

“Move along now, before I call the fuzz on you!”

He shooed her away, but Maxine slipped under his log-sized arms and moved up to the waste-basket, quickly fumbling with her hands down in the bin to gather up the last of her things. She looked up with a simultaneously apologetic and defiant face that surprised herself.

“I’m taking this with me.”

“All right, “ the guard growled, “take your clobber and scram. The sooner you’re out of my sight, the better.”

“Bloody yank,” he muttered as she passed him on her way to the escalators. 


	6. Goals part 3: Birdsong

It was a relief to strip out of the sweaty and dirty football uniform, socks and shoes. Victoria grabbed her towel and soap and strolled in to the shower area, leaving the chatter of the locker room behind her. Most girls had already showered and was either in the process of getting dressed or took turns at the room’s only mirror to arrange their hair or put on makeup.

Victoria liked to be last into the shower, so if she wasn’t in any particular hurry she always waited until she had the place for herself.

Two of the five stalls were still in use, but Saanvi and Melanie were done before Victoria’s shower had gone from cold to hot.

“See you later, ladies,” she called out to them as they left.

“Yeah, see you on training Tuesday, Cap.”

Finally, she was alone. She unwinded from her towel and hanged it up on one of the hooks on the wall, then stepped into the streaming water, turning her face against the hot jets. With slow, measured movements, she started to soap her hair and face, then arms, shoulders, back, breasts and tummy. It was the best of feelings to take a shower and get really clean and relaxed after exhausting oneself for ninety minutes like this. Victoria bent down to continue to lather up her posterior, her legs and down her feet, taking her time. With the running water rushing by her ears she didn’t notice that another person had entered the shower room. She didn’t hear how the person padded forward over the tiles on silent, careful feet, and she was totally unaware that she wasn’t alone until she felt a hard smack right on her bum. 

“Ow!”

Victoria straightened up quickly and turned, ready to punch the crap out of anyone who had the nerve to slap her behind. She almost skidded and fell by the fleet movement and the soapy water under her feet. Chrissie stood there in a relaxed pose, as totally nude as herself.

Victoria glared at her. She was beautiful with long wavy hair cascading down her back, wide-set, blue-grey eyes and smooth pinkish-white skin. Chrissie had a perfect hips-to-waist-to-breasts proportions, which alway made Victoria feel strangely inadequate, and the dark triangle between her legs was lush and well-defined. Victoria did her best to evoke her coldest stare.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Chrissy crossed her arms over her chest, not hiding her breasts in the least.

“I saw a scanty pale arse that needed a spanking. Revenge for that load of cold shoulder you gave me out there, _Captain_.”

She looked up at Victoria with an arched eyebrow.

“Move over, please?”

Victoria did not move.

“There are lots of free showers here, Cox,” she whispered angrily.

Chrissie shrugged.

“Sure, but I want this one.”

Victoria glared back, red dots now appearing on her cheeks.

“Why?”

“Because it’s already hot, stupid.”

“It’s also already occupied.”

Chrissie scoffed. 

“Obviously.” 

Victoria’s eyes darted towards the door leading out to the locker room.

“Mellow out,” Chrissie sniggered as she snuck up to Victoria, “It’s only us left.”

She pressed her soft body against her.

“Are you sure?” Victoria asked, her voice suddenly thick as molasses.

Chrissie smiled up at her.

“Relax, Cap, I’m pretty sure.”

“You’re _pretty_ sure?“

Chrissie got up on her toes and kissed Victoria on the mouth while the warm water streamed down over their heads, necks and backs. Their breast brushed against each other when their bodies met. Going from a slight tingle in various body parts, Victoria felt the floodgates of urge open, and she enfolded Chrissie in her arms and kissed back, long and hard. They were both breathy and giggly when they paused for air, still with their arms around each other. Chrissie buried her face in Victoria’s shoulder.

“Damn, I’ve missed you,” she whimpered, barely audible over the fizzing jets.

Victoria put a finger under Chrissies chin and turned up her face, and they kissed again. Not as desperately scorching this time, but just as thoroughly.

“Miss Chase,” Chrissie whispered out of breath, “we got to stop seeing each other like this.”

“Miss Cox,” Victoria said with a crooked smile, “I too wish we could meet under different circumstances.”

Chrissie looked up with large puppy-dog eyes.

“So why aren’t we? Being apart from you the whole bloody summer, it almost drove me crazy!”

Victoria’s smile got a bit strained.

“It’s not that simple, Cox. I mean, if this would come out, we can kiss our places in the team goodbye for a start.”

“Isn’t that exactly why we shouldn’t meet like this?”

“I know, but… uh… damn it…” Victoria moaned.

Chrissie had put her lips around Victoria’s right nipple and now she sucked hard on it while pulling and pinching on the other breast with her fingers. She wedged her muscular thigh in-between Victoria’s legs. Victoria grabbed Chrissie’s well-shaped buttocks with both hands and pulled her close, making Chrissie’s leg rub against her soapy crotch. Damn, she was shaking all over now.

“Hello? Wicked? Are you decent?” Chloe’s voice echoed from the outer room.

Victoria and Chrissy parted hastily. Too hastily, slamming into the opposite walls of the stall. Victoria put a hand to the back of her head where she had hit the pipe leading up to the shower head, cursing silently. 

“Not really! “She yelled back, ”Gimme a minute!”

Chrissie gave her a look of utmost frustration.

“The whole bloody summer,” She mouthed to Victoria.

“I’m sorry.”

Victoria stepped out of the shower and snatched up her towel from the hook, while desperately trying to suppress the cravings that jolted through her body in hot and cold waves. Still soaked and with the towel draped around her, taking extra care to cover up her stiff and aching nipples, she peeked out to where Chloe stood leaning at the outer door lighting a rollie.

“Hey, go tell the others I’ll be there soon.”

Chloe made a sloppy salute.

“Yessir Captain.”

When Chloe had shut the door behind her, Chrissie came sneaking up from behind.

“If you’re going out with your mates, I’m coming with you,” she said defiantly. Victoria glanced back.

“We’re just going to the chippy or something.”

Chrissie shrugged. 

“Chippy’s not below me, and if you think I’m waiting until Tuesday to see you again, you’re bloody mental.”

Victoria sighed. 

“Alright, but no fooling around, ‘kay? Just friends.”

Chrissie reached up and dragged Victoria’s head down and gave her a kiss that left Victoria wanting so much more. But there was no time. Chrissie gave a wry smile at Victoria’s blushing face.

“Promise, just friends.”

* * *

Carrying her clothes bundled up in her arms, Maxine walked back the same way she had come, back to the university. Soon she should be able to find her way between Euston Station and University College London blindfolded. If her fantasy had become true, this route would’ve been her standard walk every morning and every afternoon to and from university. Now, this was probably the last time she would walk this way, ever.

Back at the university, the festive mood was gone. So was the balloons, the ompah-ompa-band, and all of the students. The big building and its surrounding lay empty and silent and the welcome wagon had been rolled away under lock and key. 

Maxine passed through the iron gates, that luckily were still open, and sauntered in on the university grounds, still with her bundle of clothes in arns that began to feel a bit tired by now. Then she stopped abruptly.

“Oh, no.”

She stood on the exact spot where she had found out that her camera was gone. Now her suitcase was gone, too.

“Oh, no,” she wailed as she looked around, frantically searching for any trace of the boxy, beige bag. There was none. Somebody must’ve taken it. Hopefully brought it in to the university. There should be a lost property office somewhere in such a big place, shouldn’t it? 

With beating heart, Maxine stomped up the pompous scissoring stairs to the entrance, past the tall pillars and some fancy classical-looking statues and up to the large double door. She pushed, then she shoved. The door didn’t move, it just rattled a little bit. Locked. What the fruit?

Maxine knocked on the door. Peering through the glass pane she could dimly glimpse the big hall inside, and it appeared to be empty. She began to knock harder.

“Hello? Anybody there?”

She absolutely needed to get her suitcase back. Not just to carry her stuff, but it also contained all her money, and, oh god, her passport!

She started to bang the door like a drum.

“Hello? Hello!”

After what felt like an eternity, an older man in some kind of janitor’s uniform opened the door and gave her a face so sour it should curdle milk in a mile’s radius. His eyes darted from her sweaty brow, to her dirt-smudged chin, to the clothes she held in her arms, and his brow furrowed even more deeply.

“The university opens to students this Monday, not before, miss.”

Maxine’s thankful face turned to a pleading one.

“But the tour? There was to be a guided student tour?”

The man seemed even less impressed with her now.

“Ah, so you are not early, you are late.”

He harumphed.

“No, miss, can’t have student running around the building all on their own. Be punctual next time.”

“Wait!” Maxine stuttered as he began to close the door, “I’m, uh, looking for my suitcase. I left it here, and now it’s gone.”

Ha paused, profoundly confused. 

“You left your suitcase, and now it’s gone?”

It seemed he really didn’t grasp what she was saying, or if he did, he clearly didn’t care. The janitor shook his head.

“You’ll have to come back on Monday.”

“No, wait, I need it now!”

He glared at her like she was some kind of imbecille.

“On Monday,” he said, slowly and clearly “Good bye, miss.”

Maxine tried to stick a sandalled foot in the door.

“Wait–“

The man shut the door in her face, jamming her foot in the process. It hurt! Hopping on one leg, she started to bang the door again, and the janitor opened it just a crack. The sliver of his face visible through the small gap was outright hostile this time.

“Miss! If you insist on this tomfoolery I will have to call the police.”

He slammed the door shut and locked it demonstratively with a loud click.

Maxine limped away and sat down on the steps with a sniffle. What was she to do now? Her foot was throbbing, and she saw that the skin was red and chafed where it had got caught in the door. Maxine wiped her nose with the back of her hand and tried to summarise her situation in her mind. She was alone in an unhelpful city where she knew no-one, and with no camera, no clothes, no money, and no passport. And to add insult to injury, she was hungry, thirsty, and needed to go to the bathroom. Giddy goody. Maxine put her hand in her pocked and gave her pill bottle a small shake, then she took out her London fare ticket. She compared the stamped date and time on the slip of cardboard to the clock on one of the adjacent buildings and saw that it was valid for only thirty minutes more. If she was lucky, she could maybe make it to the airport. Maybe. But then what? If she was able to get to Heathrow and USAir helpdesk, she could telephone her parents and they would come to her rescue. She didn’t like the idea of waking them up again, and she liked the thought of telling them what had happened even less, but what else was there to do?

* * *

Outside the Hayes Lane arena, the gang sat waiting, dangling their legs from a broad metal and concrete fence surrounding the parking lot. Victoria walked up to them, hefting her large bag, while Chrissie carried her smaller one on her back.

“Hey guys, sorry to keep you waiting,” Victoria said and dropped her bag with a heavy thump. “This is Cox, she’ll be tagging along today if that’s alright?”

“Of course,” Kate said and slid down to the ground. She dusted off her backside before reaching out a hand to Chrissie.

“I’m Kate, pleased to meet you.”

“Hey babes, I’m Crystal, but call me Chrissie. Or Cox, if you want.”

“It’s you!” Chloe said and flicked away her cigarette butt in a rain of sparks, still perched on top of the fence. “The striker! You were really on the ball out there on the pitch.”

Chrissie glanced up at the tall punk and almost looked a little shy. Chloe could be a little intimidating for those who didn’t know her.

“Thanks,” she said and took a half-step closer to Victoria.

The chain Chloe used as a belt rattled when she jumped down on the ground.

“Clearly the MVP in the team, right Wicked?” 

Victoria lazily put an arm around Chrissie’s shoulders.

“Definitely. She’s the best. We would be nothing without her.”

“The team would be nothing without _you_, Cap,” Chrissie answered, a slight blush on her cheeks. “Can you imagine David keeping things in order and people in line? You actually like being in people’s hair.”

“True,” Victoria said and reached to yank Chrissie’s fluffy ponytail, but she whipped it out of reach.

“Hey! Get off!” Chrissie laughed and dodged yet another attack from Victoria. Despite her strength and reach, Chrissie’s fast feet kept her hair unruffled. Victoria found she was grinning like a fool, and quickly came to her senses.

“So, what’s the plan?” she said, trying to sound as normal as possible.

Rachel met her gaze, a small smile tugged the corner of her mouth.

“We were thinking of the Horseshoes if that’s okay, but maybe you two want something fancier?” 

Victoria shrugged. 

“Horseshoes’ perfect.”

Chrissie looked up at Victoria.

“The Horseshoe?” 

“The Four Horseshoes,” Victoria answered. “It’s a pub up on Haverstock Hill, and also where Rachel works.“

Chrissie gave Rachel a big-eyed stare. 

“You go to your work on your free time?”

“Aye, I love it there.” Rachel said. “It’s also within crawling distance from our twee little home, which is a plus.”

“Oh, right, you’re all living together!”

“Yup.”

Chrissie shook her head in wonder.

“That’s so ace, but how do you…? Me and me brothers fight all the time. I mean, really fight.”

“Well, not being siblings is maybe one part of the puzzle?” Kate said with a small smile, then she shot a glance at her golden wristwatch. 

“The tram leaves soon. Are you coming with us, Chrissie?”

Chrissie glanced at Victoria.

“Uh, am I?”

“I rode my scooter here, so I’m not taking the public transports.”

“Oh.”

They stood looking at each other for a while until Rachel cleared her throat.

“Why don’t we take that wee bag of yours, Vee, and Chrissie can go with you?”

“Would you do that?”

“Oh, come on,” Rachel said, “We carried your luggage before and survived, didn’t we?”

Victoria turned to Chrissie with eyebrows arched, and Chrissie shrugged. 

“Sure, why not?”

Trying to fight the wide grin that threatened to force its way to her face, Victoria gave Rachel a little too hard a punch on the shoulder. 

“Thanks, Rach. You’re solid.”

“No problem, cailín, but if we beat you there, you buy the first round. My bet is you loose.”

Without being asked, Chloe picked up the heavy bag, and the three girls trotted away towards the train station. It was a bit of a walk to get there, but well on the tram they would be back in the city in no-time. Victoria and Chrissie stood and watched them go, then Chrissie turned to Victoria with a tilted head.

“So… Wicked?”

Victoria pointed at herself with both hands and grinned.

“Wicked cool, eh?”

Chrissie smirked.

“Sure you are, pet. So, where’s this scooter of yours, then?”

With a sweeping gesture, Victoria pointed back towards the entrance of the arena.

“This way, my lady.”

Back at the motorcycle, Victoria made a theatrical bow. 

“Let me present to you my trusty steed, Bucephalus.”

Chrissie scrunched her nose.

“Eww, now you’re giving me plummy vibes, Cap. Not cool.”

Victoria laughed. 

“It was Crikey who named it after some king’s horse or something, and the name kind of stuck.”

Chrissie let a hand slide over the sleek, curved blue-green metal and black leather.

“This is wicked cool, though.”

Victoria fought some with the padlock to the chain that secured the scooter and her helmet and finally got it open. Then she straddled the machine and put on her helmet and glasses. She rocked the vespa forward to release the stand.

“Alright, Cox, jump on.”

With some struggle Chrissie climbed up behind. 

“How are you supposed to ride this with a skirt?” she muttered as she wrestled her clothes to not show too much. After some wriggling and manoeuvring she seemed satisfied with how the fabric covered her bum.

“Okay, I’m good to go.”

“Thank heavens for that,” Victoria sighed and started the motorcycle. “I was wondering how keen you were on paying that first round.”

They rolled out from the parking lot and out on the road. As they accelerated, Victoria could feel Chrissie tighten her grip around her waist, pressing herself against her for warmth and protection. It felt strangely nice. Victoria had driven Chloe a couple of times, but she had clearly made an effort to not cling to her back. This felt differed.

“How are you doing back there,” she shouted over the speed-wind, and Chrissie gave her a squeeze around the waist in response.

“I’m fine. I like it.” 

“Good.”

_I like it too._

They beeped as they drove past Kate, Chloe and Rachel, and they waved back after them with smiling faces. 

“Keep left or it ain’t right.” Victoria mumbled to herself as they turned out on Hayes Lane towards London. It was less than ten miles between Bromley and Chalk Farm as the bird flies, but driving through city wasn’t always speedy. Victoria was under no illusions that they would beat the gang to The Four Horseshoes, but with Chrissie clamped to her back as a soft and warm turtle’s shell, she could drive all day long.

Sitting on the crowded tube towards Oxford Circus, sweaty and dirty and with her bundle of clothes in her lap, no-one gave Maxine a second look. She leaned her grimy forehead to the cool window glass and stared out in the dark tunnel beyond, and she thought of home.

As a kid, Maxine had hated the lighthouse at Arcadia Bay. Her parents had insisted on trekking up there almost every Saturday morning. Rain or shine, they stuffed their rucksacks with blankets, fruits, sandwiches, a thermos with coffee, and a juice for little Maxine, and walked. By car, it was a ten-minute drive, tops, but on foot it took the better part of an hour climbing the steep paths from the beach up the lighthouse cliff, at least if you were eight and not that ecstatic about the whole thing. 

Sure, the ocean was majestic from up there, and being able to see the whole of Arcadia Bay was cool, the first time. But every weekend?

So, when Maxine was old enough to decide for herself, she stopped following her parents up there. But contrary to all reason, the lighthouse soon became the place where she went when she needed to be alone, to mull over difficult questions and make important decisions. The times she had sat on that bench overlooking the town, all by herself in the afternoon sun and writing in her journal were countless. Her parents didn’t like it when he was alone and so far, away from home, because of her ‘thing’, as they called it. With her new medication the epilepsy was definitely under control, but still her parents nagged on about what could happen and that she needed to be close to others all the time. Maxine didn’t care, she didn’t worry, that was part of the lighthouse’s appeal.

It was at the lighthouse she had been kissed for the first time, a real grownup kiss by Warren, two years ago. And it had been up there she had told Warren and her best friend Brooke that she would be going away to London for three years. When she had told them that hot summer day, two months ago, none of them had been upset in the slightest. Actually, they had seemed surprisingly dispassionate about her going away to the other side of the world, which was convenient in a way, but also made her a bit sad. It had also convinced her that going abroad to study was the right thing to do, despite her parent’s constant worry. She would miss the lighthouse, though, and the bluebirds living in the nest box that she and her dad had put up in that big old pine by the lighthouse years and years ago. She had heard that bluebirds where inherently promiscuous and about half of their nestlings weren’t fathered by the resident male, which was kind of weird, but she would miss them anyway. 

The goodbye at the airport had been hard. Twice as hard as it should’ve been. First saying goodbye to her mom, Warren and Brooke at Portland international that early Thursday morning, then from her dad at the JFK airport in New York, when she boarded the plane for the last leg of her trip to London. That had been just two days ago, or whatever it was, taking the different time zones into account. Anyway, it felt like a lifetime ago. It had definitely been a different Maxine who had, unable to stop her tears from flowing down her cheeks, hugged her big burly father goodbye like she never wanted to let go, wondering what she had really let herself into, and the Maxine sitting here in the carriage now, not caring about that she looked like a homeless madwoman, her last possessions heaped in her lap, traveling further and further away from her dream but still not feeling anything.

Maxie had always been a shy and secluded person, and on discovering that she suffered from epilepsy it had only accelerated. And in part, it was her epilepsy that made her discover her passion for photography, strange as it might seem.

She had always liked to be alone in her room, writing, listening to music, sketching, reading and playing her guitar. All that stuff lonely teenagers do to not feel too lonely. After her first couple of seizures, Maxine almost stopped going out at all, so her parents, always worrying, devised a plan.

In his younger years, Maxine’s father Ryan had been a huge photography enthusiast, and now he fetched this old equipment from storage. Then, on her sixteenths birthday, they had given her the camera and a big box of film rolls. Her parents had also set up a darkroom in the cellar for her, and it didn’t take long until she could process films and make prints all by herself. Photography really struck a chord with Maxine, and from feeling cautiously optimistic she pretty soon discovered that she loved it. No, not loved it, she became obsessed with it. With her camera always with her, her feeling of outsiderness became a strength, where she could observe without really interact. In social situations, well, in most situations actually, she had always felt like the fly on the wall, listening, but not partaking. This time around, the fly had a camera. 

It was on an evening course for one of the photography teachers at Blackwell Academy that she met Brooke for the first time, and despite being nothing alike, they became instant friends. The teacher, a Mr. Jefferson, suggested that she should to apply for the art and photography senior highschool at Blackwell Academy, and she got accepted! And it was at Blackwell she had met Warren. Up to that moment, she had never ever imagined that she would have a boyfriend, ever. Less than a year later, and she had gone from being kissed for the first time to having lost her virginity. From being a child, to becoming an adult. It was dizzying. Life clearly didn’t move in a steady continuum, but in leaps and bounds, and when it decided to make strides it was sometimes hard to keep up. 

Actually, Maxine generally had a problem keeping up. She had never been a brilliant student, and with her epilepsy came and increased difficulty to concentrate, and she also easily got tired. It was hard work not falling behind in school, but with an iron will she didn’t know she possessed, and to be fair, a lot of help from her parents, she managed to graduate with acceptable grades from both Mr. Jefferson and the other teachers at Blackwell Academy. 

It was actually Mr. Jefferson who had encouraged her to check out London as an alternative to American art schools. The competition wasn’t as fierce as in for example Chicago, L.A. or New York, but the education was just as good if not better in some aspects. So in a way her epilepsy had been the reason for almost everything good in her life the last couple of years, so she couldn’t hate it, not anymore. But for a long time she really had.

The first seizure had come as a complete surprise. It had happened in the rowdy school canteen when she was about twelve. She had fallen hard on the floor, cutting her brow open and peeing herself all over. She had woken up on the floor in the middle of a ring of staring and laughing children, lying in a big pool of milk, green peas, mashed potatoes, blood and urine. Maxine barely remembered what had happened, even now, but the kids of Arcadia Bay wouldn’t let her forget. She had never been anywhere near the ‘in’ crowd, but after a couple of similar seizures during the following years and with some unfortunate consequences, she became an absolute pariah. She had been called loonie, tard, psycho and schizo until it she was dog tired of it, and with the endless visits to doctors and experts in portland and even as far away as Seattle, making their tests and readings of her brain and other bodily functions in absurdum, but still never coming to anything conclusive. Coupled later with her late and at best ‘half-hearted’ puberty, where she also had to go through lots of horrible examinations, it made her feel like the freak everyone already though she was. 

And still in college the sneers and nosewrinklings would continue. Some would even put their index fingers together, forming a cross to ward her off as if she was possessed by evil spirits, or letting drool run out of their mouth and making grunting noises. A comedic genius even spilled his drink in her lap once, saying the ‘she had to be used to it by now’ while his buddies laughed their asses off.

However hard it had been, Maxine had never despaired because she had had her friends, and she had had a plan. But that plan had apparently been thrown out the window just now. Would she even be able to get her tuition fee back? How would she afford to go to _any_ university back home if she couldn’t?

There was also this nagging suspicion that her friends would be less than thrilled with her coming back. She had noticed a change in attitude toward her and to each other for the last couple of weeks before she went away. The looks Brooke and Warren had exchanged, and the time they had spent together, just the two of them. Maxine had hoped she had just been imagining things, and to be fair, she hadn’t really cared all that much as she was leaving anyway. But coming back now, that changed things profoundly.

So yeah, that was what she was coming home to.

Maxine continued to stare out in the dark tunnel, and there was no bright spot in sight for as long as she could see.

* * *

The Four Horseshoes was located in a large four-storey corner building i white masonry and brown timber-works. The bottom floor was clad in glossy dark brown panelling with classic cast-iron windows complete with ancient-looking wooden shutters. The second floor and up was mostly white pargeting over bricks. A large weathered sign depicting four horseshoes on a checkered white and green background hanged over the entrance. 

It was still early in the day, so the pub was nearly empty when Victoria and Chrissie entered through the dark, iron clad door. They found the others sitting in an alcove having a lively discussion about… Boob size? Thatcherism? The impending threat of total nuclear war? Or which new band was the best, like Lost Cherrees, Shonen Knife, X-ray Spex or Coming Blood? Victoria wasn’t sure, and she didn’t care. She seldom participated in their discussions even if she didn’t mind listening to the girls blather on for hours and hours. Chloe, who sat with her boots up on a chair, raised a half-full glass and greeted them with a big smile.

“Cheers, losers. How did the ride go? Lots of traffic?”

Normally, Victoria would’ve felt at least a little bit annoyed being called a loser, but right now she couldn’t be bothered. She could easily have shaved off fifteen minutes from the trip by going faster, but she hadn’t wanted to drive recklessly with Chrissie on the back. Not that it would’ve made any difference, they would probably have lost anyway.

“Hey,” Victoria said as she and Chrissie sat down beside each other on two empty chairs. ”Yeah, a bit constipated here and there as usual, but now we’re here.”

“Aye, now when all the chicken have come home to roost, maybe we can eat?” Rachel said and waved to Ronnie behind the bar. “Lunch’s over, but I can get you something anyway. There’s usually loads of food left so you can have how much you want, alright?”

Ronnie, a middle-aged man with an impressive rotund body, a neat beard and long yellowish-red hair streaked with gray, worn in a ponytail down his back, came over to take their orders.

“So, what will it be, my hearts?”

Rachel took command like this was her home.

“Beers for everyone for starters, and five servings of your best leftovers, please.” 

Chrissie raised a hand.

“Uh, no food for me, please, only a glass of cider. Small one.”

“Alright, four regular, one cider and four Horseshoes’ specials,” Ronnie said and nodded. “Coming up before you know it.”

Ronnie left, and Chloe gave Chrissie a suspicious look.

“You’re not dieting, are you?”

The serious face on the else carefree punk made Chrissie laugh.

“Oh no, not at all.”

“So, you’re skint, then?”

Chrissie shrugged, her smile a bit stiffer now.

“Nah, I’m not hungry, s’all.”

“That’s bollocks,” Chloe said and straightened up in her chair, “no-one’s without food at the Horseshoes when I’m here.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Rachel said and stood up. “Let me handle this.”

Rachel strode over the dark, stained wooden floor and disappeared through the kitchen entrance. A moment later Ronnie and a woman named Sheila, who wore rings in her nostrils and up both her ears in long rows, exited the same place, balancing plates and trays with food and drink.

“Barley pop for you no-goods,” Ronnie said and handed out amber liquid in four large glasses.

“And a cider for the lady.”

He placed a whole bottle of cider and a glass in front of Chrissie, and gave her a jovial wink.

”Red’s coming with your meal in a minute, love.”

“Thank you,” Chrissie said, then she turned to Victoria. 

“Who’s Red?”

“Ah, that would be Rach,” Victoria answered. “There was already a Rachel working here when she started, so she became Red Rachel, or Red for short. Now everybody calls her that. At least here on the pub.”

“I see. So there’s Wicked,” Chrissie pointed at Victoria, then she pointed at Chloe, “and, uh, Crikey?”

Victoria nodded.

“And Red,” Chrissie continued. “So what’s Kate called then?”

“Well… Kate’s just Kate.”

Now Rachel came back, carrying a plate overloaded with food. She handed it over the table to Chrissie.

“Here you go, love. Bangers with the finest Irish guacamole. On the house.”

“You shouldn’t have,” Chrissie said with a genuine smile, and took her plate, then she studied it with deep suspicion.

“Uh, this jack-a-mole? What’s that?”

“_Irish_ guacamole, dear,” Kate said, “That’s just mashed potatoes. Sometimes Rachel is all fur and no knickers.”

Rachel gave her a scandalous look.

“What? I have knickers!” She stood up and started to tug at the hem of her already minuscule skirt.

Kate rose in panic, almost spilling out her beer over the table and all the plates if not for a quick catch from Chrissie. All eyes were on Kate who were flailing her arms like a windmill, so no-one else noticed how she saved the day.

“No-no-no-need! We believe you!” 

Rachel sat down with a smirk. 

“Sure you don’t want to check? I’m not completely sure I remembered today. And it’s not like you haven’t seen my faighean already.”

Kate slumped back on her chair.

“No, thank you very much. We’re trying to have a nice meal here, not a merry spectacle.”

Chrissie leaned over to Victoria.

“Her ‘fine’?” She whispered.

“Yeah, I think faighean means, well, you know…”

“Her fanny? Are those two…?”

“A thing?” 

Victoria had to smother a giggle at the thought.

“No, but Kate’s an artist. She has painted all of us with more or less clothes on. Rachel’s a favourite, if you can believe.”

“I can!” Chrissie whispered, ”she’s stunning.”

“Yeah…” Victoria whispered back, feeling her mood sink like a stone down her tummy. Nothing could compare to Rachel, that was just a fact. She wasn’t only dazzlingly gorgeous, but also full of expression and, well, life, and that showed on all the paintings and sketches of her Victoria had seen. Chrissie didn’t notice Victoria’s mood drop, she continued to whisper in an exited manner.

“So, you’re saying there’s a nude painting of you somewhere too? I gotta see that!”

“Well, it’s not completely butt-ass naked. I chickened out.”

“Shame. I would def hang that in the sitting room.”

“Really?”

“Yep, right above the telly, something to rest my eyes on when there’s nothing better showing, you know? Like, after God Save the Queen at ten?”

“Har har.”

Victoria had only posed for Kate once, years ago, and she didn’t like how that painting had turned out. On it she was all angles and sharp edges, dark shadows and splotches of cold color. No warmth or softness anywhere. Not that she felt soft, but there was a completely different feeling to her portrait compared to any of for example Rachel’s or Chloe’s. Objectively it was good, sure, really good, actually, and she didn’t doubt Kate had caught her shape and personality perfectly in that painting, but at the same time it had hurt a little to see it so plain and clear. She had even thought of asking Kate to paint her again, to see if it would yield a different result, but she hadn’t built up the confidence yet. Victoria glanced over at Kate, just as Kate looked up from her plate with an inquiring smile.

“Hey there, what are you two whispering about?”

“Well, you all need some explaining to make sense, you know, so I’m, uh, explaining?”

To Victoria’s relief, everyone just nodded. Sometimes she really appreciated that she was a pretty good liar, or how peculiar everyone was in their little gang. 

They ate and drank and had a good time, mostly talking about Chloe’s upcoming gig with one of her bands this Thursday, The Oisters. They had been interviewed and would be featured in a magazine, which apparently was a huge deal. For a second, Christie thought they were taking about the posh women’s rag Vogue. It wasn't, but a completely different magazine called Vague that she had never heard of. They seemed pretty happy about it though, and Chloe was talking in length about the photo shoot that they had done with a fly-tipper dump as the background, way out in Croydon. It had been in the height of summer and the smell had been hard to endure, but the pictures had come out rad. Suddenly they were out of beverages and everybody but Chrissie started to clink their glasses with their cutlery, giving Victoria meaningful looks.

“I guess that’s my cue,” Victoria said and got up. “What d’y’all want?”

While Victoria headed towards the bar, Kate leaned over to Chrissie and gave her a conspiratorial look.

“So, do you want to hear some gossip about Victoria?”

Chrissie nodded, albeit a bit hesitantly.

“Okay.“

“Well, it’s nothing saucy, but she’s going to marry her long-time boyfriend soon, back in America. They got engaged this summer, after five years together. Can you imagine waiting that long, and living on different contents? It must be true love between them!”

Kate smiled blissfully and clasped her hands, but Chrissie reaction was just silence.

“Ah,” Kate said when she saw Chrissie’s blank face. “She already told you, didn’t she? I should’ve guessed. You two seem really ‘tight’, as Vee would say.”

Chrissie cleared her throat before answering.

“No, she hasn’t mentioned it.”

After seeing Chrissie’s face grow more and more downhearted, Kate took her hand in hers and squeezed it.

“Don’t you worry about it, dear, she hasn’t had the time. We learnt about it just yesterday.”

Biting her lip, Chrissie glanced over at the bar. A clock above it showed that it was twenty minutes past beer. In fact, every hour was beer, so it was also forty minutes to beer, or was it that every five minute mark was beer? Anyways, Chrissie didn't appreciate the joke right now. Below the clock Victoria had just finished her order and now was on her way back to the table with a full tray. Chrissie’s face turned unnaturally pale.

“I… I just remembered I need to be places,” she said and rose. “It was grand meeting you, babes. And thanks for the grub and all. Really appreciate it.”

She snatched up her bag and turned to go, but she wasn’t fast enough. Victoria was already there, offering her to take a glass from the tray. Damn her long legs. 

“Hey, Cox, the Diesel’s for you. I thought that was right up your alley.” 

Without looking up, Chrissie grabbed the big glass and stood there wavering, as if wondering what to do with it. Then she quickly lifted it to her mouth and drained the reddish-brown drink in one go. She burped loudly as she put back the glass on the tray, earning some scattered applause from the tables around them for the feat. 

Still holding the loaded tray, Victoria stared after Chrissie as she marched over the floor and barged out the door. Then, slowly, she walked up to their table and sat down on her chair. She took a glass and looked around with a questioning face. Kate was red as a tomato.

“So, what the fuck, Kate?”

Kate looked completely bewildered.

“I… I don’t understand…”

“Crikey?”

Chloe looked almost as confused as Kate. 

“Kate told her about your engagement, I think?”

“Oh,” Victoria said and took a sip from her beer.

There was a silence when everyone except Victoria looked at each other. 

“Oh what?” Kate finally said, visibly irritated. “What did I say? I don’t understand.”

Rachel scoffed loudly from the other side of the table, but Victoria only shrugged and pursed her lips.

“Me neither, but Cox can be a bit brusque. Maybe she just had to go?”

She lifted her pint.

“Cheers, everyone.”

Kate and Chloe raised their glasses and drank. Rachel did not. When they had put down their glasses, Kate frowned at her.

“You sit there rolling your eyes like you know something we don’t.”

“Maybe I’m the only one _with_ eyes here,” Rachel snorted back.

Kate’s frown deepened. 

“Meaning?” 

“Meaning that Chrissie is obviously into Victoria, big way. For fecks sake, I can’t believe you didn’t notice!”

Victoria shifted uncomfortably in her chair, lifting her glass to drink again, but also to hide behind. She did it carefully, because her palms were suddenly wet with sweat. 

“Chrissie’s into me? No way.”

Rachel gave her a hard look. 

“Oh, so innocent-looking, Vee. I hope you haven’t been playing with her heart, leading her on, or something. That’s not nice. She seems like a sensitive person.”

Victoria laughed right into her beer, spraying foam all over herself and the table.

“Sensitive!”

She shook her head and leaned back in her chair, wiping at wet spots on her chin and shirt with her free hand.

“Come on, Rach, you obviously don’t know Cox. She’s the most badass girl I know.”

She tried a grin to show how preposterous the whole idea was. Rachel didn’t smile back.

“Well, did you?”

“Of course not! I mean, why would you… Why would I even–”

“Then I think you should run after and talk to the lass, before it’s too late. Do not waste a friendship on a simple misunderstanding, cailín. Whatever you think of her, she deserves that much.“

Victoria grimaced and rubbed the back of her neck.

“Nah… I think I’ll talk to her on the next training. It’s not that important, is it?”

Rachel shook her head, her face clearly showing how stupid she thought Victoria was.

“I hope you won’t regret it.” 

Then she emptied her glass in one long gulp and smacked it down on the table.

“Alright, cladhairean, who’s up for another round?”

* * *

The evening had begun casting its shadow over the summer sky when they finally left The Four Horseshoes for their walk homewards. A slight chill had found its way into the air, but the sky was still a clear and darkening blue. No rain tonight it seemed. Even Victoria hoofed it, pushing her Vespa beside her. She had had a bit too much to drink to drive even this short trip home. Also, she needed to think. 

After having talked a mile a minute about everything and nothing for hours, the gang walked in silence northwards along Haverstock Hill. They turned right, in on Lawn Road with its fancier villas, and then left on Spinner’s road where the houses were somewhat smaller and definitely more shabby. 

As they neared number 51, they saw something at their door. It looked like a heap of clothes haphazardly thrown down on the stairs. Victoria parked her motorcycle by the gate leading into their front garden and locked it. When he rose she found the others still standing and looking at the strange pile of clothes. It looked like someone had started a jumble sale on their doorstep and then forgot about it.

“What the hell is that? Did you leave your laundry to dry out here or what?”

Then a small movement rippled through the fabrics.

“That’s not laundry,” Rachel exclaimed, “It’s a person!”

Chloe had already begun unlocking the chain around her waist and now clutched it in a firm fist.

“Wait here, I’ll check it out.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Kate said, but Chloe gestured to them to stay put.

“Better safe than sorry.” 

She prowled forward towards the person hiding below the heap. Then, carefully, she lifted a rumpled and somewhat dirty Mickey Mouse sweater and drew heavily after breath.

“Max! What are you doing out here?”

Maxine sat up, looking all dazed and groggy from sleep. As she rubbed her eyes, a pair of fluffy yellow headphones slipped off her head and landed clattering on the stone step. The others encircled her where she sat. They all stared at her with surprised faces, and almost immediately Maxine’s lips started to quiver.

“I know, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be here, but I need to... if you could think to... I mean... if I was allowed to... I– I have nowhere else to go.”

She looked up at them with big teary eyes and trembling mouth. 

“And I peed in your flower bed. I’m so sorry.”

Maxine’s voice unravelled into sobs as she pointed towards the unkempt and overgrown dogwood shrubs that climbed up the side of the house. Victoria rolled her eyes and was just about so say something sardonic, but then again, hadn’t she been a jerk enough today already? Maxine obviously was way over her head in whatever this was. Life? Victoria didn’t really understand, but she also didn’t need to make it harder for her than it already was. She decided there and then that she would help Maxine with whatever she needed help with. At least to a certain degree. Victoria herself had some experiences with breaking free from a dominant family. Hesitantly, she took a step forward to try and comfort the sobbing girl. This was going to be awkward at best, but luckily, Chloe beat her to it, already kneeling by Maxine’s side.

“No, Max,” Chloe said, putting a hand on Maxine’s slim shoulder, “I meant, what are you doing _out here_? Why didn't you go inside? Is the door locked?”

Chloe tried the handle. It was open, so she swung up the green front door.

“You're always welcome here, Max. And we prefer wee-wee in the garden to the broom closet any day of the week.”

“Oh for feck’s sake!” Rachel lamented to the darkening sky, “I will never hear the end if it, will I?”

Chloe didn’t turn from Maxine.

“How long have you been sitting here?”

“I don’t know,” Maxine answered in a shaky voice, “a long time? My batteries ran out.”

”That’s one way of putting it.”

“No, I mean, they actually ran out.”

She held up her walkman.

“Oh, that’s a nice thingie,” Chloe said and grabbed her hand to pull Maxine up from her sitting position. “Wish I had one of those.” 

She steered Maxine into the hall. 

“Hungry? I’ll make you some eggs and soldiers if you like. And a cup of tea?”

“Yes, please,” Max answered, ”and a big glass of water maybe?”

“Sure thing. I made a gallon of lemonade earlier, hopefully there’s something left of that too.”

Victoria gathered Maxine’s belongings from the steps and carried them into the house.

“So, why did you give us the slip?” She asked as she entered the hall and threw down the jumble of clothes on the chair by the telephone table. 

“And what the hell did you do to your suitcase?”

Maxine stood untying her sandals, and Victoria saw that her right foot was red and swollen.

“And, uh, your foot?”

Maxine looked up with a shy glance. 

“Oh, it’s… complicated.”

After Victoria had inspected Maxine’s foot and had wound it in gauze and tape, they sat down around the table for tea, toasts, lemonade and Chloe’s supremely soft-boiled eggs. Everyone was a bit peckish, but Maxine ate and drank like there was no tomorrow.

Afterwards, they all listened as Maxine told them her story; how she lost her camera and her suitcase, her money and her passport. How she had been on her way to the airport, but suddenly decided to make a total reversal and go back here because she couldn’t make herself to return home. Maxine hadn’t found her way back to the house until after some time, and then she had used her clothes as a makeshift blanket against the chilly evening and had fallen asleep while she waited, despite her hunger and thirst.

“And your parents?” Kate asked, “What will they say? Shouldn’t you call them?”

“I will, later, when I have a place to stay. Maybe you have som tips where to start looking? It has to be cheap, though.”

“Oh, right,” Chloe said with a twisted smile, “we forgot to mention that. You can stay here if you want.”

Maxine stared back at them, and everyone was silent, waiting for Maxine to say something. Finally, when she managed to speak, her voice was no more than a whisper.

“R-Really? But where? There wasn’t any room?”

“Well, we kind of forgot about the office in the attic,” Chloe said nonchalantly, “if you can stand it, it’s yours. It's kind of small and draughty, but so are you. I mean small, I’m not saying you’re draughty!”

Maxine blinked.

“But… But how am I going to pay?”

Rachel shrugged.

“Small girl, small room, small rent. You’ll manage.”

“Yeah,” Victoria agreed, “we’ll find a way, Max. We usually do.”

As the meaning of what they were saying started to sink in, Maxine’s face crumpled, and she started to sob again.

Victoria tsk—tskted.

“Hey there, easy with the wet stuff or you’ll damage the varnish.”

She reached out and wiped out a tear running down Maxine’s cheek with her thumb. Maxine looked up and managed to give them a sunny smile despite her sobs.

“Th-Thank you.”

“So,” Kate said and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, “if we are to make that little room liveable, we have some work to do.”

She looked around the table.

“Who’s with me?”

As one woman, they all rose. 

* * *

Maxine sat in her old Edwardian mahogany bed that must’ve belonged to old miss Olivier once upon a time. Although Victoria had gone over it with screwdriver and wrench, it was still a bit creaky. But Maxine didn’t mind. She had taken a bath in the crazy lime-green-flowery bathroom on the first floor, borrowed a nightgown from Kate that was very much too long, and now she sat in-between clean sheets in her bed, in her own room that still smelled faintly of soap from the newly scrubbed floor. A carafe and a glass stood on an old tray on her desk by the darkened window. They had found an old chamber pot for her to keep under the bed, so she wouldn’t have to go downstairs in the middle of the night, and she had borrowed Chloe’s ‘torch’ in case she absolutely had to. Kate had even scrounged up a pair of curtains for her. The room was mostly empty, except for her bed and the desk and chair, there was also a small and, as for now, empty bookcase (except for a lonesome pill bottle). A yellowing print depicting River Thames from the last turn of the century hanged in a lacquered frame on the wall. That was it. It was quite spartan, but it was hers. 

She would love to write in her diary right now, but she had lost it together with her other belongings. She wasn’t overly worried about the suitcase and its content being permanently gone, though. It was probably still at uni, taken care of by some friendly soul, and she would ask about it come Monday. But tomorrow was Sunday, and she had no plans, no idea, what she would do tomorrow, but she looked forward to it. Well, she ought to call her parents tomorrow, but in some strange way she almost looked forward to that too. Right now, though, she ought to sleep. 

Maxine pussyfooted up in her nightgown, hoisting it up to her knees so as not to trip on it, and blowed out the small candle she has placed on the sooty coal burner in the corner, then she slipped back under the warm blanket again. After tucking herself in good, she yawned and stared up in the dark, angled ceiling.

It was crazy how much bad luck one could have during one day, but still feel like the luckiest person on earth. Leaps and bounds. 

Sure, she wasn’t in the clear yet. She needed a new camera, and some kind of paying part-time job, but right now that felt like minor obstacles. She would manage, she was sure of it. And she would go to uni here in London and learn how to be a writer and photojournalist, whatever her parents said.

The door to the small balcony stood half-way open, making the white gossamer curtain slowly rustle in the air and letting the scents of summer fill the room. A blackbird began singing beautifully in the tree right outside. Maxine laid and listened to it serenading, letting the complicated yet soothing melody in the darkness of night slowly lull her to sleep. Just before she dozed off, she wondered what blackbirds ate. She should try and leave food for it on the balcony to make it come back. Was it seed they ate? Or worms? Hopefully not worms, but she would do whatever she had to do.

* * *

On the floor below, Victoria tossed and turned in her bed. It was a long time since she had problems with sleep, but tonight it just didn’t want to come to her. Clearing and cleaning out that room for Maxine had been great, forcing her to concentrate on something else for a couple of hours, but now, alone in the bed, pictures of Chrissie popped up before her eyes over and over and over again. Chrissie running with the ball in her dirty team suit over the green pitch, Chrissie naked in the shower, a glimmering string of water drops jumping off her erect nipples, Chrissie sitting behind her on the scooter, wind whipping her hair and with a big smile on that pretty face, Chrissie emptying a full pint in one go, leaving a small line of froth on her upper lip, before wiping it off with her arm. Each image scraped its long squeaky nails against her mind as it paraded by, making her shiver and shift in bed to try and find a more comfortable position. She couldn’t find any.

She had been a jerk to Chrissie, she understood that now. But what choice had she had? It wasn’t like she would change her whole life for a pastime like Cox. She was going to marry a selfmade millionaire, and a good friend, for fucks sake, and an ill-mannered working-class girl wasn’t likely to change that. Like, duh. Sure, Cox was smart, entertaining, likeable, a really, _really_ great footballer and friend, and attractive as hell to boot. But still, she was just some girl, right? And it wasn’t like they had broken up or anything, they had just had sex a couple of times, for the fun of it and nothing more. If Chrissie had thought something else, well, that was her problem, wasn’t it? Victoria was sure she had done nothing wrong, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling that she somehow had made a terrible, terrible mistake.


End file.
